NAIJA BLOG

I wait day after day night after night for the tears to dry for the pain to fade I laugh some days I cry some nights but it still stays, nestled comfortably next to me pain   owns me, it has made me its. I am its slave the tears always fall when I am alone and the flashes come searing by, hot, hurting and painful  I stop and cry and wipe and sigh and wait for this perpetuality  to pass I see people with the same pain who speak empty defiant words  with hard broken eyes I feel their souls are break just like mine they will try themselves to sleep in the quietness of the night they clutch don't their bibles  like their shield  their faces caked in makeup forgotten and forsaken old and sad theirs is the tears that wi;; never heal I wait for the days I can be free from these empty words and empty days when the tears will dey an the pain will fade and I can smile like I smile once agao until that time I clutch my sword and sigh and cry and smile 

Through your magic,  i  travelled  widely, from my room, across the mystical valleys of Haggard's She, stayed in the castle- with  Sleeping Beauty was onboard the bus in Ayi Kweh Armah's Ghana sat with Chase's Ma Barker supplicated with Ntiru's Pauper traversed the realms of Asia with Marco Paulo emphasised with Dicken's Pip.. Libro, my comforter, my truth-teller an anchor in this duplicitous world of double talk lies and betrayals, your embrace is cathartic, it heals teaches and steers me I can laugh at the boys in Melville's Bartleby, the Scrivner can be strong like Henley in his Invictus and ponder from a distance  the darkness of human nature from Conrad's Heart of Darkness

 The narcissist pose duck lips eyes raised to meet the gaze of  the cognitive poison our millennium God that promises fame, fortune, love, acceptance our nouveau saviour that takes away all worries, with  just a swipe Oh, technology God, you have succeeded in ways  millions before you could not  you have created nations of zombies who cannot think and conform vapidly to half-truths consumed our freedoms, our lives, our thoughts have evaporated within the digital junk the algorithms churn and offer us daily we function mechanically but wander through your streets like the  fentanyl addicts in skid row we are zombies, a cumulation of the brain-dead workforce  who live for cheap goods, cheap thrills... we are sunk.

 We live like shadows transit, fleeting, evanescent forgotten in time. would the world know that a versatile writer lived, who was buried in the tombs of valuable paper,  overworked, brain-dead from the monotony of survival who would know that a great painter existed, full of zeal for his passion,  whose passion was stifled, strangled, and killed by viperous words of the stupid, the envious, and the myopic.. who will remember the thinker and philosopher analogous to Plato, Nietzsche, Petterson,  avoided by kith and kin, branded a misfit and blasphemous by society, living dreadfully in a haze of dissociated alcoholic stupor e all exist in nothingness, hollow and void of actual existence we live, we breathe, we dance, we copulate, we go grey, we fight the ghosts of the pasts,  we live with disappointments and sink warmly into the bed and grave that beckons us.