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Life moves on

This post has been domiciling in the Drafts folder for 6 months now. A visit from a friend had me spelunking this deep dark inundated cave. Well, it is one post light now.

Friend; “Later this year we gotta visit Ibanda and you know, show some love to our fallen Ninja’s friend.

Me; “Sure we should. It’s for saving a weekend.

Friend; “True mahn, but biggest worry is how many guys will go, won’t people be busy.

Me; “Shyaaaa, even if they were five. See, life is just like that. How many people do you think knew her surname or eve where she resided? If people won’t even see you when alive, think of when you’ve passed.” But so is life, eyyy and again, what’s life?”

My only quarrel with life; is just what it is, life.

Life moves on. Life is a bitch. Life just takes no prisoners. It’s never rainbows and butterflies. Life is that one thing you can go on about until you die. You hustle day in, day out just to end up lifeless.

Life will have you home sleeping yet again; after yet another day of constant pressure, bad days at work, worse moments on the road. You’ll seek solace at home, but home won’t be home with the heart is away.

Lazy again, procrastinating, perhaps having a terrible headache, body numbing cramps, but somewhere the party goes on. As if to celebrate your misery.

You wonder what could have been, you imagine had you been there, would it have counted? Did they miss you? How come the World never stopped when your world stopped. How come, no one of those close to you felt your pain with you?

No; the world rotates regardless, it keeps on rotating. Its axis just isn’t your head.

You could be in a ditch dying, after being knocked by speeding vehicle at one past midnight. It’ll be cold, it’ll be dark. You’ll feel hopeless, you can’t lift a finger. You’ll be there gasping for breath, using that last joule of energy to scream out for help. But no one will hear you. No one will know your trials, the friends you left at the bar, the same friends you bought drinks, the girl you kissed. Someone will stop just above you, she’ll unzip her pants and pee on you. It’ll feel a bit warmer, it’ll be like the dog days are over, but it’ll just add salt to injury.

You’ll scream with every last breath, but it won’t be enough. She’ll zip up and leave, you’ll be gutted. Life moves on. For you it won’t, tomorrow they’ll pick the lifeless you and send you off, you’ll be covered in dust. That love you will cry, the tears will dry. Life will continue as usual.

See; even when you sleep off, the iPod will keep playing. Sometimes the same song on repeat. Other times it’ll play on shuffle till morning. It keeps playing whether you’re listening or not. You wake up and start from last stop.

You have people in your life, they bring you flowers, sometimes chocolate. Share music with you, look out for you. Get an Uber for you on those cold bar nights at Stoke. They care, they genuinely care, love and adore you. The other day, they drove 124 kms just to pass you a water bottle when cramps were squelching you. It’s life.

They weren’t with you when the Post Graduate professor forced himself on you. They’ll never know, because you’ll never tell. You’ll never tell because you are scared, scarred and scabbed.

What you had will die. And you’ll be crushed too. And no one will know your pain. No one will feel that pain for you. Only You.

Sometimes you’ll feel like Social Media is toxic, like there’s too much negativity, like you want a fresh start. So you go on, you mute, block un follow, you change usernames, you do the most. Oh, you’re playing yourself, nothing changes. You’ll be back, you’ll try to start from last settings and nothing will have changed. Life Kyekyi.

“I need new friends” Oh. I also need a Friends Recycling Machine. Guess we got to wake up, we get caught up in the dream and it becomes reality. No one comes perfect, even if the packaging may lie sometimes. Pretty faces; awesome curves, big heads, you’re attracted and soon you, very soon. What You See Isn’t What You Get.

You can’t run away from your shadow, new friends always end up as the old ones sooner than you lose the New Friends receipts. It’s all about you, be the the new friend you need.

Life is every bit unfair. Some will say it’s unfairly fair; others, fairly unfair. But it’s unfair either way.

Half empty or half full, the other side will always feel deficient. You know how they say the grass, this, that. It’s never greener the other side, it’s just as green. Don’t be played.

On hills top is that One Tree. At the other end of the waves is sharp rocks and that Lighthouse. All there when you are, so much there when you aren’t.4ede2ef1-ef2a-465f-bfcc-ed143356e7bb

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I will

“I have a headache so I won’t write.” I have thoughts. That yearn to be let out. And they’ll be.
I have a lot that I’m sleeping on. The sleep is sweet. I want more.
I’l write something so nice. It’ll have tongues wagging. When I wake up, I will.
Oh here comes the rain. Soon as it dries up i’ll write. I love the rain. I love the sleep. I live for sleep in the rain.
I’ll wake up. I’ll write. My friend, she wants a Billet-doux written. She longs for it. I’ll write. She’ll smile.
I bought her a flower. It dried up. she smiled. She didn’t sneeze this time. It was dry. She loved it, but she didn’t say.
The chocolate. It didn’t melt. It was melted. Words were written. In it. “Write me something, anything.” What was left. It was smudged. On her favorite seat. My face.
“I can’t say i love you. I can say I love ink, this ink, you and paper.”
I’ll write. Anything. It’ll be short, it’ll be from the heart and it’ll be about us.
When i wake up. I’ll write.

From this dream. When I wake up… to be continued.

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Little Pretty Woman
Blessed with a bosom capped with twin peaks
Adorned with dark thick tipped nipples
Lance them by the edges of my mouth
Let it joustle with the thrust of my tongue

Take me deep into it
That little place they call sin
The enclave hushed by desire
Major Arcana cards held aloft
Where you’re High Priestess and I obey

Let me touch your thin veil of awareness
Where touch is forever more
Envelop me with your nether lips
Warm embraces the hedonist never forgets
Engulf me in swatches of sodden covers
Palpitating with a certain accord to the pink

Little curvy woman
Blessed with a derriere so bountiful
Juggled by the sway of your hips
Lay me on your altar of euphoria
Pierce me with the dagger of your eyes
Cleanse me with the taste of your lips

Even as the furnance that is my loins burns
Erecting the tower that is this meat
Babel reaching for the stars inside the slit
Veins filling the shaft with venom
Don’t cool it down for no remonstrance

Despite the flush of my cheeks
Teach me the ways of your castle
That I may lay my life down to defend
Be my Delilah, this strength I give away
This hair, eat away

Daughter of gods
Let me adjusting the bra that contours your bust
Let me take you from behind
Not like the dog I am, but a god
Let me into your infinite wetness
Across the waves of your ocean
Animate my desire in your well of creation

Impale me with your long sharp one
Bruises deep burgundy like fine wine
The colors you place onto my body
Soothen it with your warm wet tongue
And the littl whispers down my ear

Allow me to abseil those twin peaks
So I embrace their dark tipped cupolas
Grinding and winding down like an funambulist
Let me overturn your mound
Tending the sweet spot. Of pleasure
Tendrils convulsing the cradle that is your body
Hold on tight, this is us.No names, just pleasure

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I don’t want to want.

Abraham: The Noun Project.

I want to stop wanting. I want to stop saying I want to do this, I want to do that.
I want to stop thinking I want to go here, I want to see this. I want to feel that.
I want to stop dreaming. I want to experience things, live some kind of life.
I want to stop wishing. Wash away the ifs, the maybes and the could have beens.
I just want to stop wanting.

You realise I’m still wanting as I’ve used ‘wanting’ twice minus this and ‘want’ thirteen times, plus this, with more to come.
I need to stop that and start living. Then I can say I have done this, seen this, and lived that.

Every night I close my eyes, my perfect life starts, dreams upon dreams, all nice and sweet.
There isn’t a night a nightmare has lingered around. It’s been a decade and counting.
Life is perfect, with my eyes shut. I want perfect with my eyes open as well.
There we are again, with wants; which are very well known to be insatiable. A bottomless pit.

We can want, we can crave, we can desire. We can choose to feed our needs or we can let them starve.
It won’t kill us, it won’t maim us. It passes, and normal prevails.
Normal prevails! No, that’s the winds that are procrastination and escapism.
It’s comfortable, it doesn’t itch, and neither does it hurt. That’s the normal.
But when it passes, when it all passes you by, that’s when you wake up.
That’s when you realise that wanting, and not experiencing isn’t living.
That’s when you get to know your normal is wanting and wanting isn’t enough.

It’s the normal that I’m fighting with, that normal, my normal.
My normal is a liar, my normal is a cheat. It’s the ugly devil in disguise.
My normal feels procrastination is the safest zone. Stall until it’s alarmingly close.
Stall until it’s about too late, and then, pass. “You can’t do it, it’s too late now.”
My normal thinks silence is the best cure, the best revenge, the harbinger of time.
They say time heals, right? If time heals, then silence feeds time.
Shut out everything deafening and let the tide pass, for with time it passes.

The life we ought to live isn’t in the shelter, it’s the tide.
Either you wet your hair, soil your hands and tighten your sails.
Or cower and lament after, wish upon the horses and want what you can’t get.
Watch as others build empires and wonder if they serve a different God.
You start questioning your destiny, your luck and everything around you.
You drown, for the storm knows no shelter, as you never learnt to navigate the tide.
Water through your nose, water in your lungs, you fill up.
You either realise you are dying and fight, or give up and sink.
The beauty about life is there’s always a saviour at the shore, waiting.
Family, Jesus, stranger or friend. You won’t see the saviour but they’ll see you.

I don’t want to first get on that ship to realise I should have done most of the work on land.
I don’t want to regret not having sifted through rubble and dust for the gem that is life.
I don’t want to be reminded I didn’t walk enough on the ground beneath my feet.
I don’t want to chase the moon and the sun when it’s too late.
I don’t want to want. I just want to live. And live I shall.


My dreams. My 10th life.

I would say I have another life;a parallel life that is to an extent mutually exclusive to the usual, but many wouldn’t believe.

Right before i sleep it springs up; it’s a little elusive, so hard to describe but in an instant, from thoughts comes drifting to a new world. A world so ostensible but awesomely constructed, ‘things are things but things just in there.’ Everything seems so real but so far away, much like a mirage.

Thoughts from the last movie watched to the last Whatsapp chat had prior to jumping into bed, slowly pull me from my consciousness. Much as i know where I am exactly (sometimes just before you go into deep sleep and just as you come from sleep, you lose track of your location), listening to what is happening around me, smelling whatever is filling up the air the steady forces of sleep steadily shut me out. Suddenly the noise, the clatter, the whiff takes you back to that first time your girlfriend took you in and cooked that awesome coriander rice. There you are in her kitchen, the recipe seeming all real, only that you can’t touch it and the meal smelling so good only that it’s not by the nose but by the brain probably.

I go through exactly that every night unless am stupidly tired and fall on the bed like a dry log; but still,though it’s shorter on this occasion.

It used to be getting entangled in a whirlwind soon as i slept, not like a cyclone whirlwind more like a satellite-in-orbit whirlwind. Every night i was assured of the exact episode but not anymore. i don’t quite remember if i was being flung around but i clearly recall it being a sweet experience.

Now days on top of other dreams, the commonest is levitating. Not like the magic carpet gliding around the sky, not like the hover-board floating through air but more like wafting through air. In this dream I am in the middle of a fight possibly influenced by a Jason Statham movie I’ve been watching, i drift around throwing punches, jumping over buildings, hiding in the space just above that guy am going to whack.

I have lost count of the mornings i wake up and count my teeth just to be sure it wasn’t just a dream. i always wake up with these depressing thoughts about where next to get money for dentures.

On some nights, the bladder fills up but you can’t get yourself to the loo just so you don’t lose that awesome dream. You hold on to the dream like a kid holding onto his pie. Even when you manage to whisk away to take a well deserved leak, the thoughts are in the blankets. Really girlfriends should put up a gift for every time you recall to place the toilet lid. The struggle to resume the dream to where it was paused is real, sometimes it works sometimes it doesn’t. if it works, the plot of the dream diverts a little from the original. if it doesn’t work, the disquietude of losing something so pleasant.

They say they are Lucid Dreams, they say. I say it’s the only reason that pulls me to bed.

But to develop your dream recall, it’s handy to keep a complete dream journal. Keep the journal handy by your bed and record every dream you remember, no matter how fragmentary. Start by writing down all your dreams, not just the complete, coherent, or interesting ones–even if all you remember is a face or a room, write it down.

When you awaken in the night and recall what you were dreaming, record the dream right away. If you don’t, in the morning you may find you remember nothing about the dream, and you will certainly have forgotten many interesting details. We seem to have built-in dream erasers in our minds, which make dream experiences more difficult to recall than waking ones. So, whenever you remember a dream, write it down. If you don’t feel like writing out a long dream story at 3 AM chilly Kabale like night, note down key points of the plot. Also write down the precise content of any dialogue from the dream, because words will almost inevitably be forgotten in a very short time.

Possibly, all you will need to do to increase your dream recall is to remind yourself as you are falling asleep that you wish to awaken fully from your dreams and remember them. This works in a similar manner to remembering to awaken at a certain time in the morning. Additionally, it may help to tell yourself you will have interesting, meaningful dreams. A major cause of dream forgetting is interference from other thoughts competing for your attention. Therefore, let your first thought upon awakening be, “What was I just dreaming?” Before attempting to write down the dream, go over the dream in your mind, re-telling the dream story to yourself. DO NOT MOVE from the position in which you awaken, and do not think of the day’s concerns. Don’t even talk to that loved one next to you.

Cling to any clues of what you might have been experiencing-moods, feelings, fragments of images, and try to rebuild a story from them. When you recall a scene, try to recall what happened before that, and before that, reliving the dream in reverse. If after a few minutes, all you remember is a mood, describe it in a journal. If you can recall nothing, try imagining a dream you might have had–note your present feelings, list your current concerns to yourself, and ask yourself, “Did I dream about that?” Even if you can’t recall anything in bed, events or scenes of the day may remind you of something you dreamed the night before. Be ready to notice this when it happens, and record whatever you remember.

I dream a lot that sometimes, I want to remain in bed to have one more dream. Good enough for me I last had a nightmare in my form One in Ntare School. I just woke up, sat on the bed shaking and prayed to God. I don’t quite pray like the usual pray written in the prayer book. I just sat down and talked to God eyes closed to spare me bad dreams then on. And i think it worked. Actually it worked because since then the closest I’ve been to a nightmare is a dog chasing after me and earning itself quite a kick up its butt.