Told to say something when quiet,
Told to be quiet when speaking.
What am I supposed to do?
What is the answer you’re seeking?
Am I to speak?
Or am I not?
Am I to stay quiet
and speak in my thoughts?
I speak in disease,
Slowly destroying everything around me,
Until I have nothing left,
Such a cruel reality.
Sorry is the only word I know,
It’s all I ever say.
Excusing my pitiful ignorance
Until my eventual doomsday.
I’m sorry for talking,
I’m sorry for staying silent,
I’m sorry for daring to speak,
Please don’t show me repent.
For it is my own naivety
that has brought me here.
I shall hide myself away
Until my end is near.
Some days, I’m still fighting the urge to light a cigarette—missing those rippling ribbons of smoke and the way they would uncoil in the dark, humid air. I’ve been coughing so much lately, and my lungs will hardly expand for any air that isn’t polluted at the source. I’ve been hacking up my lungs, and each time it feels like trying to drag them out through my throat just to see how charred they’ve become. I ignore any signs of disease—any signs of my own actions catching up to me—all because I’m so afflicted and so addicted to slowly ending my own life. Undoing the veiny strings of my body for no reason other than my love for being unhappy, only allowing myself to breathe the poison I think I deserve. After long nights, when my daydream canopies crumble, I always wish to commit blasphemy for you again—treat your white ash like the god I sometimes think stopped loving me long ago. I wish I could still believe the burning in my chest when I run is the only thing that will save me from a future that’s not home—because it saves me from a world where I feel like all I am is my flesh and bones.
i like her
i like her a lot
i want to kill myself
he likes her
she likes him a lot
i want to kill myself
Oh, how were the days
i hoped to unite
Hoping the love
won't just be mine
But damn, i hope a lot
The ugly beast that i am, I can not
The prince shall take the princess
and they'll live ever happily
The beast will await his death
for he's lost and full of apathy
once again the wretch cries
Under the starry skies
With lust for death in himself
i want to kill myself
You are very
Intelligent,
All eyes
On you,
_____________
Some ears
close up,
Some hands
with charms.
May 08/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
Message:
Majority black communities
Always failed to support
And protect
The very intelligent
People among them.
It always be a secret motive
To eliminate them through charms
Or poisons.
Being a very intelligent to some
Bantus and other black groups
Was always a danger
From the begining of colony
to today.
More black people were instructed by the Majority colonisers to eliminate
Their very intelligent people
And that pratique continued secretly...
Which is " selfhate "
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