Gemima

The last time I heard from Gemima,  she told me I was fiercely rebellious and we were polar opposites. Alas after several monsoons, here she is serenading me the same tune. She says she’s evolved, that she never gave up. She’s telling me she failed me when she seized believing in us. Gemima tells me that each night she spent away from me made her  bones frail.

With all her vibrant hues, Gemima says the valley spoke to her, the only language she could understand. Her glassy eyes wander far into the distance, to shadows of climaxing eagles.

She says I was her hero, a sight for sore eyes

I quiver from her lingering gaze, her trembling hands found mine. Her grip reminds me of everything I let go. My cheeks fluster and I wonder if she still cares for me. Her ebony skin glistens below the vantage sun, revealing new tribal inks.

I imagine her to be my Tutu, only more regnal. Perhaps Beethoven reveled on her physique when he composed that daringly magnificent medley.

I know her inside-out, and she could discern every needling thought of my densely silent mind. She could never meet my gaze, her guilt wouldn’t allow.  Even as my breasts rested on her supple thighs, eons of heartache resonate in her. This time around, I hope I make her speechless too.

18 years have passed, yet she’s found her way back to me as though our blood echoes insouciantly to each other, begging to be sealed in writing. And we love to revel in despair, like the snake and the mongoose.

Retrospectively, I  realize that the bare thread lingering between us is strained beyond repair yet even if the sun drowns in a cloudburst, Gemima creates the tenebrous riptide in my nirvana I can’t help but covet. The scars she left won’t heal for another eighteen years.

Alien

What would it feel like
if I stand on the edge
If I happen to be in close proximity to it,
then what?

what if I could walk
maybe I am lighter than oxygen
or maybe I’d get a concussion
either way, I have to know.

but baby girl, you don’t float.
beyond sea level,
everything must tumble

Gravity.

Round and round
it’s all fun and games
once, forgotten
twice, twirling

Stop.

My hands look strange,
like tentacles
attached to an alien being.

I wonder,
what is the single greatest distraction
from self-love.

 

Fire and Blood

The moon is forming. Arising from the east, “if you stare hard enough”, brother says, “you’ll blossom into a princess”. He says, into anything I desire.

Tears trickle unrestrained, down down down to the angle of her lips. She wipes it away, so he inquires, “why are you so sad?” and she replies “I don’t know, why does God exist?”

A nice saunter into town she thought, and I will back to my old self. This isn’t a lie. It’s a confabulation. We can only believe what we tell ourselves; even when seeing is believing.

If the clouds turn bloody, pasted against the dark skies, one glance at it will ignite a fire in her ego, one that cannot be extinguished until the subsequent days.

 

If you didn’t know yet, you wouldn’t know later. “What is wrong with me?”, the question that constantly nags her so, why would I chose violet when peers dance in shades of blue? Why would I trace my lips in green even after she said, and I know, it made me look like an ogre.

Broken.

Unable to soar high, she destroyed her wings so that no one else would, so that she would have a reason to look to the skies and watch eagles soar, so that she would have a reason to make a wish.

But enough if this tomfoolery, enough of these mind games, enough of these flimsy excuses, enough!.

The clouds she sees are crimson, they blend into each other projecting their effect on top of themselves. Like two koi fishes engaging in a deadly war, each fighting to conceal the other.

You can tell her a million and one times that what she’d done is beneath her, but she may never seize to emulsify fire & blood.

Amphetamine City

The tires of the bus screech loudly as it rolls to a stop. I awake from my deep slumber, rubbing my eyes… I blink, staring through the window, but the streetlights only reflects back a dimly lit park in the dark night.I tilted my head up to view the digital clock above the passageway, 00.10 it read and minutes later, the conductor comes through.I recalled asking him about 6 hrs earlier how long the bus ride was.He halts beside me, “Ma’am, we’ve reached the final stop, you will need to exit here” then tipping his hat, his voice lowers, “farewell” then he continues past me. I let out a soft yawn as I dragged my baggage from under the seats, getting up. I stepped out into the cold night; at long last, It’s amphetamine city.

He halts beside me, “Ma’am, we’ve reached the final stop, you will need to exit here” then tipping his hat, his voice lowers, “farewell” then he continues past me. I let out a soft yawn as I dragged my baggage from under the seats, getting up. I stepped out into the cold night; at long last, It’s amphetamine city.

 

Twenty minutes later, the Uber pulls up at the farm house and I walk up to the door. I press and listen to the loud clunk of the bell from within. I close my eyes and inhale deeply as I hear the footsteps closing in around the door.It swings ajar and my beloved aunt Fontane stands at the opposite side of the welcome mat wearing a broad grin on her face, which sorta made me start to smile. Her lips parted “welcome home Alexander” she started stepping aside from the doorway; “welcome to amphetamine city”.

I stepped into the grand parlor, memories of my prepubertal years flooded my brain, like the time I ran up those never ending stairs, slipped and broke my early incisor.It felt great being back being back here; yet strangely unsettling, like something was wrong.

“well hello there darling”, I was swayed from my thoughts by an airy voice.My neck reverts back to the stairs. The silhouette of a lady posing on the top, her lips were thin with dark tan nevi around her neck.She wore her hair in an updo and the V-neck flowing top seemed to accentuate her long neck. I noticed the color flow into her cheeks. It was Aluna, I was ecstatic, perhaps because I am proud of the woman she was becoming. She fastened down the stairs, twirling across the room towards me

“Now that we’re all here ” interrupted Fontane “let’s have dinner”.

Dinner was a big celebratory feast, after which we all went outside and a bonfire was started.My grandmom simply referred to as “Nana” sat adjacent to me outside as we silently watched the fire grow and ashy debris fall from the smoke.

“What is it that brought you back” Nana finally ended the silence. I remained mute “What is it?” she relented.

“I just enjoy this place” I splurged ….”but it doesn’t feel like home”.

 

******

amphet

 

Months flew by, but the overall dynamic of the house was destabilized, our grand feasts quickly reduced to weeks old bread and lukewarm water.Even the crops were wilting. “what is going on?” Aluna exclaimed, extremely vexed, thumping hard on the bed, her head supported by her wrists.I lowered myself in front of her, pushing all of my weight onto my forefoot. I felt bad.

” I can make this all go away”, I tell her “I could make you happy again”

“how?” she asks in awe

“This place, you, Fontana, are merely figments of my imagination, I could rewrite this whole script” I pause “and then I could leave, forever”

 

she wipes her face “you never told me why you came back”

“I needed a safe house, somewhere I was familiar with— but I can’t stay here”

“well if you do leave, who wins?” she asks

I blink ” No one I suppose”.

Climb onto the highest building top.Inhale deeply and watch as the peasant scurry to the call of their master. Now shut your eyes, tightly, You’re almost here…..it’s Amphetamine City. 

 

Amphetamine city is the continuation of Yellow Roses, these stories portrays the never-ending journey towards self discovery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wild Card

You just chose the wild card.You are an expressionist.You are considered part of a modern generation; generation omega. You’d cast your cares away and listen solely to your wild heart.

Money is of more virtue to you than discipline.You crave freedom as you cannot survive being confined, Freedom is what unites you to your ego.

Young people love to wander far and wide, you seek to elope; don’t you? Travel to all corners of the earth and if the locals ask you,” why here?” you grin and retort; “why any place?” for in your heart you already know, better now than never.

Fill your heart with love wild one as it will distract you from your responsibilities, pretend that this one person is all that matters.Give your soul to the chance that you will be young forever so that when you crash; you will crash hard.Pretend that they are all you care for and rebuke anything that drives a wedge between you and them, but heed my caution, these trust issues will arise like fog at dusk threatening to cloud your judgments even further, pulling them so far from you that they refuse to acknowledge you, even to their own self.

Do not let your insecurities define you wild one, do not let your mind be dismayed by your physical attributes, for they are worth nothing but the age-old insidious monster, depression.

Do not disguise yourself with an exterior that is not yours either; for you will become a prime target to those more troubled and insincere than you, and with time, it will not only take its toll on you, but you will integrate into their culture…becoming one of their own.Burying yourself behind frail wobbly walls.

Let your secrets remain unspoken and your truths stay unchanged.Many will come and most will vanish but do not attach singular priority to any.Indulge in the life you desire, but check the opinions they throw at your feet. Watch them; for they may either make or break you.

In all you do, aspire to do it tremendously, even though you do not have an inkling how, for malnourished ambitions has destroyed many-a-vibrant personalities such as yours. I would know, for I chose the wild card too.

“Treasure the beauty of youthful life and the wisdom of adulthood.”
Lailah Gifty Akita