Past tense (play on words)


They called us addicts though we both know, it’s air. The air we breathe to receive when they’ve long settled less for. We’d inhale a release as we exhale to forget. Together, we were breath and you then took the easy route. An exit I’ve yet to follow.

Tell me why! We both know life rolls too fast as we go in slow and steady.


If I could wind back time I’d go to the days I did not know you. How you’d never know the great disturbance you are! I don’t enjoy weekends anymore. Now, I seek the days when my mind is at rest, as I burn the end of two candles.

What have you done of my senses? To bequeath what can’t be kept? Ignorance surely is bliss when bliss settles after your passing. Mondays can’t get here fast enough. There’s no living in waiting. Rest quickens thirst. The longing in my bosom, the swelling of my lids and the palm around my neck!!

What have you done!

PS: I miss what I don’t have as I learn to define what I value. Life is something, it gives the greatest joy but without knowledge. And then it takes it all away for you to learn its worth. (Don’t miss me when I’m gone!! A sweet refrain. If only I knew what I know now.)



Once an addict, always an addict, it’s the source that shifts!!!

Don’t apologize for your journey!


I look around at bodies, smiles painted on faces. People milling about, going places, making plans all for happiness’ sake. How many of us ever reach the apex of our becoming with our light shining bright?

Some say it’s about the journey, not necessarily the destination. Yet we strive towards the end point. Maybe that’s why the journey can feel so wasteful, unnerving.

Where are we going?

Despite how we explain our becoming, we all seek a few things, the necessities, peace, happiness; these the real destination we long for.  The hurdle is getting there daily, with every step without questioning the bouts and shouts.

I had two encounters recently. Each one was about the struggle, building and tearing apart, the pull and the hold. We are levers, churning spits of fire where we can.

As I feel I’m being undone yet again, I am not the only one. We need to break to make. Metamorphosis, the blending between undoing and remaking. We are all changing, going through stuff, yet I am alone. We are alone. In this journey called life, we are truly all alone.



Are you okay? Hmm

“Are you okay?”

Yes and no.

I will be though. If there’s breath it should right? So we think. When there’s not, it is the end, we believe.

Why do you ask if I’m okay when you don’t even have time to listen, truly listen to the response? Why do we keep asking questions we don’t care to have the answers to?

Should I give the usual response? Or should I tell you all that’s wrong? One would say it would depend on who’s asking. But no, it depends on the question. We should respond truthfully to the question.

“Are you okay dear Sir, Ms., Ma’am? Are you?”

Do we ask because it is the norm? Do we ask out of curiosity or do we really care?

Often I find myself unable to answer. So many questions to that one question especially when it is followed by “I haven’t seen you or heard from you in a while. Is everything okay?”

Duh! I think. And then I feel. It’s a test. He’s testing my emotions, wondering where they fall. But they run the gamut. I’m asked to take the temperature of my emotional state. Is it running hot or cold? Maybe lukewarm?

Always blunt, wondering more than I should, I think “if you really cared you would have reached out sooner or maybe not lost touch at all. That makes sense to me. I check on those I care about and if you don’t hear from me, well I have probably explained at length why you will not be hearing from me. No need therefore to wonder if I am okay. Feel me?” That would be too much to say would it not? It will most likely be followed by an offense more often then a defense if they really wish to connect and lastly a judgement “you always complicate things. I was just checking up on you.” I dislike repeating the same arguments, discussions that lead nowhere. Been there, done that blah blah blah!
” “I am. How are you? Hope you’re doing well.” Politeness without follow through that could lead to trivial arguments.

“Awww so sweet of you. How are you?” You’re still on a sweet note in my head and I’m being polite. There’s no negative attachment to your name there.

“”Who is this?” You’re not important, I have erased you totally if it’s a text you sent. Or “hmm is that so?” Or simply “hmmmmm hello.” Or a no response at all. If we are face to face and you’re wasting my time with nonsense acting as if you give a damn to know I have been when you never bothered before.

Too busy is the lie that covers I don’t care to make an effort.

Doesn’t take much to show we care. A simple hello here and there, a happy birthday or card. If we have lost touch, we chose to. You aren’t valued enough to be kept abreast of my ongoing.

Am I okay? You will know when you’re present.”

“I live for the highs I can’t remember in the places I’ll never forget!


Trippin’ antique!





Have you seen it? What we sometimes value? Maybe antiques? They had a life or several lives before. We cherish them by placing them on a pedestal. We have made them holy in human sense. “Set apart”, without function, meant to be used, attended to at will. It is something you hide where no one else can enjoy unless you do and when you want to.

But at what cost? It’s function: pleasure! Purpose fascinates me.

I was contemplating my state of aloneness as I do ever so often when I would love to catch a show or go for a walk with company. What around me is found alone but what is rare, protected, hidden. Am I hidden to the world? What hides me? Who brings me out for show? And some have a few times before. I have been a secret, not to be placed on display. Cherished beyond measure, a prize, much adored, to be enjoyed privately and paraded to just a few. I am holy! Human kind of holiness.

In my rarity, I am an antique, too frail to be played with, a little broken though mended. I’m good to have around, enjoyable but I don’t blend in well.

I am rare what can I say?