I remember that evening…
I had been expecting him for two weeks.
He showed up with four wraps of the good stuff.
All rolled up, moulded to perfection.
We would smoke one and I could have the rest.
He liked me that much.
We decided to smoke outside, so we could keep our business our business and have our usual ‘drive about’.
We smoked in his car while he drove.
We were in our own movie, more like a music video. Seemed to me like I was Warren G and he was Nate Dogg. I felt gangsta and he looked laid back.
We were listening to Brymo’s ‘Good Morning’ and he was driving and singing from his soul.
♫♫♫♫
“Good morning Omoge, Baby mi, how you do? Tori o fine gan, I’m singing this for you. Ma she mi lese, tell me how you do. Sun mo mi Omoge, this one is for you…”
♫♫♫♫
I hoped he was singing to me.
But I knew he wasn’t.
I looked at him, I was sad. I loved him but I had no idea what he felt for me.
I had learnt to think about this for short seconds.
And so I snapped out of it and continued to bask in the ambience of my inebriation.
It was fun. I did not do this with anyone else.
He was fun.
We got back to my room.
I did not say a word or laugh or anything.
I just locked the door, turned to him and kissed the shit out of him.
It was straight to business.
That was why he was here.
That was the only reason he came.
This was the only way I could have him.
Did it matter how I had him or how I got his attention?
We kissed too much.
We took off our clothes too quickly.
We touched too aggressively.
We had been apart for too long.
All I wanted was for him to fill me up.
We had only one type of conversation.
It was an intense type of conversation. The type that involved finely carved nails piercing tough masculine skin. One that encouraged tears and resulted in expulsion of body fluids.
We gasped for the breath we had lost during our dialogue.
We smiled at each other;
And we parted ways.
Everytime.
…
This is not about sex, love or drugs. It is about facing reality. It’s about our internal battles. The ones we create for ourselves. The ones we can avoid. The ones that are unnecessary. The minute we start to realize that “it is what it is”, nothing more, we would become better people and progress would not be far from us. Face life squarely, without sentiments.
…and you don’t need drugs to reason.
I had been expecting him for two weeks.
He showed up with four wraps of the good stuff.
All rolled up, moulded to perfection.
We would smoke one and I could have the rest.
He liked me that much.
We decided to smoke outside, so we could keep our business our business and have our usual ‘drive about’.
We smoked in his car while he drove.
We were in our own movie, more like a music video. Seemed to me like I was Warren G and he was Nate Dogg. I felt gangsta and he looked laid back.
We were listening to Brymo’s ‘Good Morning’ and he was driving and singing from his soul.
♫♫♫♫
“Good morning Omoge, Baby mi, how you do? Tori o fine gan, I’m singing this for you. Ma she mi lese, tell me how you do. Sun mo mi Omoge, this one is for you…”
♫♫♫♫
I hoped he was singing to me.
But I knew he wasn’t.
I looked at him, I was sad. I loved him but I had no idea what he felt for me.
I had learnt to think about this for short seconds.
And so I snapped out of it and continued to bask in the ambience of my inebriation.
It was fun. I did not do this with anyone else.
He was fun.
We got back to my room.
I did not say a word or laugh or anything.
I just locked the door, turned to him and kissed the shit out of him.
It was straight to business.
That was why he was here.
That was the only reason he came.
This was the only way I could have him.
Did it matter how I had him or how I got his attention?
We kissed too much.
We took off our clothes too quickly.
We touched too aggressively.
We had been apart for too long.
All I wanted was for him to fill me up.
We had only one type of conversation.
It was an intense type of conversation. The type that involved finely carved nails piercing tough masculine skin. One that encouraged tears and resulted in expulsion of body fluids.
We gasped for the breath we had lost during our dialogue.
We smiled at each other;
And we parted ways.
Everytime.
…
This is not about sex, love or drugs. It is about facing reality. It’s about our internal battles. The ones we create for ourselves. The ones we can avoid. The ones that are unnecessary. The minute we start to realize that “it is what it is”, nothing more, we would become better people and progress would not be far from us. Face life squarely, without sentiments.
…and you don’t need drugs to reason.
omg...amazing..like amazing....
ReplyDeleteGreat writing.....im pleasantly surprised
ReplyDelete