Scribblings Of A Dramatic Introvert

Hi,   I'm trying not to write poems or sad stuff.   It was all jokes when you first tried it. Just another silly habit everyone indulged in, but you were bored so why not try something new. How disappointing it was on first try. Overrated. Crap.  They said it felt like heaven. Some losers said it was their addiction, but you weren’t hitting it.  So you tried it once more, and it definitely got better. Just not on that level you believed it led to. And here, you gave it up. For a couple of years. Scoffing at the helpless addicts.  Could never be me, you pitched confidently. Once a while, you tried it out. No addiction, right in their faces.  The universe must’ve been playing a joke on you. Today, you lay here with tears burning your cheeks. You’ve hit a high thrice today and you just can’t stop. You badly want to, but you know when that voice gets stronger than your willpower, you would give in once more.  Prayers won’t suffice anymore than they on...

XVI I tried to cry in my closet but I couldn't. Five stages of grief and I'm stuck at emptiness. I stopped letting the pictures flood my mind and when your laughter rang in my head, I blocked it out. Whenever your voice echoed in my thoughts, I willed myself to stop. Without thinking I clicked delete to every picture that had your face, every tag. I wanted to move on, so I stopped thinking about you. How you died. Running from a police raid on every young man that so much as looked free-spirited. They said you ran into an incoming motorcycle, yet someway, ended with your head bashed against the tyres of a truck. Or crushed, was it? I didn't want to think about the fact I wasn't thinking about you, so I stopped that too. Today makes it a long time since you left. I swear I forgot the date of that Sunday. June? It was a Sunday, because we'd gone to church together, and then later at night you offere...

"My memory of her is probably the most clear from that year," she told me. "She had talon fingernails- red; It wasn't pretty." She drew a long breath, eyeing the vase that held my tulips in the centre of the glass table between us, as it contemplating whether to continue. I was about to suggest starting from something she felt more comfortable discussing rather than her memories from 2005, when she continued, "I was just six, but I knew it was slutty, especially her riding miniskirt. No lady should wear that and sit LIKE THAT. She had the hair too. You know, and the lipgloss- that shimmering red one. Her eyelids was painted like those girls they said were bad for marriage- I mean, it was 2005." "She was always sitting in front of my dad's car on those afternoons. We sat behind. Quiet. My mom taught us that; being quiet." She added, smiling. "Dad told us she was his sales assistant's wife. I believed him. I believed everythi...

She's a little old lady that attends my local church; Probably a septuagenarian. Her back is stooped low all the time. Nor does she dance much during Thanksgiving, Odd comfort to me as I am a mess on the dance floor (Nothing near a hot mess, just mess mess). Hers is probably due to arthritis. She's quiet; Not usual for women her age that attend my local church. She doesn't yell at little kids who just want to run and play after the service is over, Nor does she give "life hacks" to young mothers, trying to remind them of how "wrong" they are in raising their children. (Owwwww, you know nothing! The big old lady usually told eager mothers before she began lessons on how to choke a kid in the bid to force-feed). Ìyá ìjèṣà sometimes sleeps during the sermon (a lot of times is sometimes)- It's in English and I've never heard her speak the language. You see, she carries a Yoruba bible and asks a literate to write down the sermon...

First base: I tried not to take too much in all at once, Getting in way over my head, Letting you under my skin. Slowly you possessed me, And took me high as I stayed drawing warmth from your voice. The second: I tried. I told myself I had my acts together. I did, At first, But the weeks rolled by, Holding me, you got me through each flight higher. When you let go of my hands I found myself hitting rock bottom. It was then you taught me what second base felt like. I learnt to laugh in your presence, Forgetting the shame I had learnt to attribute to how my giggles made a deep throaty sound. Your fingers brushed my lips, And I knew your lips were close too So I shut my eyes and took you in. That was hallucinogenic; You literally took my breath away. Somedays I detox off you, Other times, I just slipped under your spell. Whenever I raised my head from below the waters, Your hand was there to cup my face; Fingertips brushing hair locks from my eyelids. That was third base. Then I lo...

Day 825 Your eyes; Squinting when you laugh hard under streams of sunlight, Lips muttering simple words my auditory cortices learnt to take as music. Your opinions get me nodding in agreement through and through. I put up squabbles, yet all it takes is you taking my hand in yours to make it all subjective. You are a whole religion. Your bubbly laughter in the nighttime, near intoxicating; Ricocheting through walls and leaving me lifelong memories. Your chuckles do more than just sit up in my cerebral cortices. They’ve made a rhythm of you, To which my feet have learnt to dance without inhibitions. Dúró tì mí A prayer I often offer, Even when the odds go against us, And I have to wade off side-talks about you. When everyone seems to pitch in one nasty comment or the other the minute you're out of sight. Constant reminders that I've lost myself, But they forget to note that I'd rather spend what is left of my lifetime gazing at you, Than embark on...

"Rather than fix it, I pulled down a hundred more veils." That's what I told him, I believe. What use is it to make yourself vulnerable, When you'd call more attention to your darkness? To what end do your intentions matter? Maybe if I stood behind a veil, I'd be left alone I made myself believe Another compromise Yet somehow a few managed to hold my gaze through this hypothetical veil "Let me fix you," some offered, hunger in their eyes Others(If this passes for everyone, all of them) weren't so keen "You're fucked up," they said; literally. So rather than be sulky I'm throwing it in My laughs would be louder And my paranoia top notch My indifference would be projected more clearly Let alone, I'd be just as I am Maybe there's no veil any longer This is me Unveiled Naked.

Welcome home Isn't it lovely? You try so hard to make a farce And realize you are as lost as you'd been five years ago It's been a long time Yet her voice is still as loud as ever Up in my head she's not screaming Just calling Come Home I can't go through I know the way home But I don't want to I want to be happy too I want to climb out of here I don't want to hear her call to me It drives me nuts I want to be alone But she always finds me And days when I fall to my knees Eyes shut in prayer Her voice, even louder rings in my ears I want to find peace I really do

  "Speaking of lovely; That's what I've always known them to be all my life. Their  skin- creamy white and their figure: eight- perfect for the view. I told  my father they were like mayonnaise. Some of them were white as sheet, adorned as the image of perfection. They had beautiful hair,  tumbling downwards in docile curls. Mine was ugly; it  remained an amusement to my brothers who  had made a game of hiding my combs just to see me run with the thick mane on my head every morning I had to visit the onídìrì. I had wanted just the hair as a little  girl. I spent good time staring at commercials that played on our fourteen inch TV set, in awe. My father usually snapped me out of it, sending me to my books; the  only way, he chanted day after night. Still , I was always mesmerized by them. I never did look down on my own skin. I didn't  realize we were worlds apart. Their  flow seeming unnatural, I once thought they were goddesses. I g...

This was different, the tears just didn't stop He had only given a suggestion; what he wanted. He told his mother he didn't want to sit in her laps, on the bus ride back home. It was uncomfortable. And made his legs hurt. So she told him to sit on the steaming engine, behind the driver's seat. "It's too hot, I want to sit on my own. It's just sixty naira." He had grumbled But not for long His mother hit him hard across his cheek with her bare palms till he cried out. "Stupid boy," She hissed and pulled him into her laps, Threatening to hit him further if he didn't stop quivering. So he muffled his cries, And she looked out the window. All she had in her purse was the fare for the ride back home. She didn't need a selfish whiny child If he thought she didn't wish to pay for his solo ride, he got it wrong. She worked too hard for him all day long to afford his school fees. Today had been another bad day....

You came in as a slave to my dispensation Or that was at least what I thought. Although, you've never been one to fit in my back pocket Nor fit in the crease of my palms But you my love, Slowly taught me devotion. I never failed to note your succumb to outage of energy, And I ever dutifully restored you to normalcy, My soft palm softly caressing your fragile bodice. You always lay in wait for me, And even if I never could tell so Finding you always made me a lot more than simply giddy. Maybe you never listened (Or you were just incapable of doing so) But I dare say I served you more than you did me. When you had your first fall over a rock hard surface, Slashes threatening to ruin your flawless face, Little did I know that was the beginning of your fall from grace. You push me to edges, Flip us over, tugging hard at my neck scarf Staring hard into my eyes as you shut down in stillness. I've pulled you back to life each time, But honey I'm so ti...

I'd probably miss you as long as I exist; Maybe get more depressed than I already am, With you being so nonchalant towards my affection for you Pride courses through your veins Your words are neither here nor there And you never admit if you have any feelings left to spare for me Your eyes never betray your feelings You make me tug at your shoulders and get distracted someway It drives me nuts to give so much, for nothing at all. So baby, if you want to leave, biko leave. You've done so much messing with my head and all Carrying your shoulders up high and rubbing it in my face We both know I have my fair share of pride And so, I'll never mouth anymore good sweet words into your ears. You don't know what you do to me But now henceforth you've become a scam to me Everything I thought we share shall now be referred to as the crap it is Your network has faded from my receptor And the pride in you? It reeks of something between pure attracti...

Do you regret it? Decisions you made in the last few months Journeys you embarked upon No one knowing of your destination Not even you, at times. Dares you'd sworn to take up Challenges you beat their odds at someone else's expense Nights you stayed home to cry Days you turned off your mobile phones to avoid some phone calls Or nights you snuggled in rather than hang out?  Do you regret them? Those jerks you cursed the day you met? Lovers you turned to mush before their gazes, Yet you let go of for the greater good? Friends you swore allegiance to, Yet you couldn't help being helpless when they needed you the most? Do you regret you? The stupid things you've done The unsolicited lies you've told The smart things you've said to mock the illiteracy of some The words that won The ones that hurt Do you wish to change them? Or you just don't even care anymore? Do you even still know what it feels like to hear you own heart bea...

What do you need me to say, As I stand here, listening to your blasphemous declarations? You tell them she's younger, she's everything. She's prettier, I've seen too. Extremely mesmerizing to the eyes. I know you've been to her apartment thrice in the last four days, Now you tell them you didn't want to seem desperate on the fourth day, but, She makes you see heaven, you vouch. You're in love, you say again. How? I'm still standing outside your door, Awestruck. So it was indeed her. She's not even smart, I've heard. Even now you tell your friends she only eats takeout meals. She can't make magic with Efo riro like you say I do. She's just another challenge to you. Can't you see she would bore you in no time? Can't you see I've given it all I can? Can't you see how I trust you so much? How you made me ease into you and lose my damn mind? I saw you with her two months ago. She was smiling,...

Walking through the same route, Returning from night classes where I stay for less hours now. I've laughed out loud at things that hurt me, and I've given sarcastic replies to shield myself from piety. I've stared long and hard into my future, Raising my eyes back devoid of feelings. Shed tears at simple matters, and Lost friends who either called me selfish or a sick proud soul. So this midnight as I find my way back to my cradle, Everything rushes in. My earplugs are blaring 'Beautiful night' on repeat; A song that I fancy just for the sonorous beats, The lyrics I doubt I'd ever relate to. My flashlight is out, But my feet know their way home. My lips are eager to mumble nicer words, To everyone of them. I keep walking. By morning, it would all be gone. These memories, This knot in my belly. It definitely is a beautiful night.