Scribblings Of A Dramatic Introvert

23/11. Tonight, I'd stay wrapped up in my fluffy blankets, Pick at my purple fingernails smeared in messy polish, Occasionally glance up at the patterns I've made in ink, high up on my yellow walls. My eyes have learnt to skip the daily reminder of my goals I put up there though; (It's routine to scoff at that lately.) I'd shield my eyes from the 100 Watt light bulb That otherwise threatens to blind me, Kick my feet high in the air, Tune up the music volume on my poor quality headset, (I've been dying to get a $300 worth Beats by Dre headset) But it's loud enough to blare through my eardrums. I definitely do not mind one bit; Loud enough to take me floating through the seven heavens and nine clouds, Or at least make a show of doing just that. Loud music, Lazy scribblings, And definitely long naps under fluffy blankets- That's my forté. S.I.Y.A.H

We don't talk much anymore. Actually, we don't talk at all  I. It probably happens to a lot of us; We meet up with another beautiful soul, Fascinated as our eyes shimmer in pure adoration. We get drawn to each other; Late night chats, Good morning texts, Long phone calls into the evenings. We shared every of our dreams. Giggling, as our goals clashed time and again, Ticking items of the soulmate target, A down to earth kinda challenge. "I've found another best friend, This would last forever." We told each other, and talked even more; Split our souls in halves and exchanged a part each. The stars aligned our fates, as our fingers reached for one another.  II. The evenings are lonely these days. The cold nights, a recurring torture, And the stars have begun to bear another meaning. How much do I miss you? I really can't put a figure on that. I can tell you it gets me slipping outta my head a lotta times though. How the good...

The first examination I ever failed was my entrance exam into primary 5; I can't remember so many details of how the sun appeared or the color of the moon, Nor do I have any memories of what I was eating that day or the night I was told I had failed, But one thing I never forgot was the dress I wore to the exam- It was my favorite; Pink in so many calm shades, And my pointy way-too-loud "stilletos". I failed the exam, Even as I was supposed to uphold a reputation as a star pupil from Abule-Egba, Lagos. But I couldn't get into primary 5 in Canaanland, Ota. The beautiful view that made me stare in awe, Leaving mouth hanging as we drove through to the reputable school, Was to remain in my dreams. It was pathetic. So the next time I went, I can't remember either what I was wearing. Although I am so sure it had been a plain blouse - I think it was green- and a shabby skirt; definitely plain also. I was probably wearing the same shoes (I nev...

   Forgive me father, For I have sinned These words played in my thoughts for so many seconds after I heard it on Sunday during mass. Minutes later, I started typing with no idea whatsoever how it would play out. Here goes what stared me in the face when I was done: Dancing in utter darkness, As tiny specks of unholy lights bounced over my skin. I twirled, Turned And ripped my garb off, strip after strip. Forgive me father, For I very much knew what I was doing My eyes were filled with smoke from their lit pipes Yet rather than turn away, I let them grip my waist in their free hands As they passed me from the less high to the barely conscious. Forgive me father, For rather than be disgusted I giggled and sometimes I moaned. Forgive me father, For the night went really fast. In leaps and bounds the seconds ticked And I lost count of how many times my back hit a wall Sometimes it was a cushion Most of the other times, they weren't so gentle And hell must have parte...

I've tried so hard to stay conscious but have no control over my thoughts; They pull me to depths I never knew existed in my head. It gets so hard to catch my breath when I find myself so deep in and I get lost over again. I think I blacked out a couple of times; some of which you sat by my side. You asked me what was wrong once and I told you I was tired; Indeed, I was choking on my own breath that second. You told me everyone was tired, and you believed I was strong enough to get my shit together. I was gagged, bound and possessed; how was I supposed to rein myself in? Sometimes ago, I saw a post on the gram about speaking to God. When people fail to listen, God listens, they promised. And so I spoke to God; I spoke to the big deity up there and waited to hear him say something to me. They didn’t tell me that he never did speak back to the possessed ones My poorly formed words bouncing off high end walls and ripping through my soul I wept and screamed every midni...

These embers upon my skin scorch. As I raise my eyes to the distant clouds, Watching the sun tip into the ranging depth, Taking every fragment of my life alongside. I recall his face perfectly from noon today; He’d worn a stoic smile, And asked me to breathe. “Just take slow deep breaths.” He’d so calmly said. And following his cue I did just that, What were the odds? The worse off chance was that I was wrong, But I never was. I have always survived. I survived an absent father, Who all but hated me, For being the product of a loveless affair, With a psychotic promiscuous lady, Who my luckless childhood had to term mother. But I survived, didn’t I? So why would this man with a lisp scare me to death? My trembling hands held gingerly onto this hope; One that crashed when he read out my file. Shattering my shimmering future before my eyes. As he uttered those three words, Sucking the life out of me in a slow whiff. “You have cancer.” It was my lungs af...

I saw her again last night at the vigil; She’s just another spinster in the congregation. That’s what we all see, But something makes us all stare longer at her: Would it be her gait that strikes us peculiar? Cos I’m so sure it’s a whole lot odd. Probably because her feet are not those of a swan; For they fail to lift gracefully. She’s not pretty, you know; Her cheeks are quite sunken, And her cheekbones are an embarrassment to the conventional beauty they ought radiate. She can’t afford new cloths, So she wears her branded tee shirts with uncomfortably large skirts; Wrapping her legs in and sweeping almost noisily, Her traditional dresses fall off her shoulders, And this is in no way attractive. As her skin is all wrinkled over her collarbone; Her face gives her the appearance of a woman scorned in abject poverty, Fifteen years older below her eyes than she is. She places a pair of red rimmed plastic “prescription glasses” over the bridge of her nose And swears...