A Woman Like Me

It has been forever, so i decided to pen something down as I picked phrases from where my mind led me. I hope you love it.

a woman like me

I once said that women like us were not meant to be tamed. We were not created to succumb to meager creations of men and be satisfied. Because women like us are meant to drown oceans and roast the flames of Hades kingdom. But I forgot to mention that women like us are never understood, not because we don’t want to be understood, but because finding a mind to understand what we stand for is like looking for hints of rain in the 3pm scorching of the desert.

And this is where my boy of science is stuck. It is like a life hack that hit his lower back without causing an arch and I ache for that. He did not see it coming yet he held it tenderly in the palm of his hands. He did not see it coming yet every day he pushed it into the deep of his neck. Art is in our hearts and art struggles to meet the baby man at the science level and art is dying. I feel it, I see it. I hear its wails in the am of every dawn. Art wants to raise up but the moment art does meet the morning sun rays, art is forced to bow down but the problem is art never bows down because art was created for the heart and if you make the heart bow down, you are putting the soul under the feet and what is life without a soul?

Again, women like us are misunderstood. We know what we want, we can walk the path to that spot we want to be, but putting the name of the path in words is a hustle. Women like us fail to explain because we fail time and again to find the right words, and right phrases. we seem to have been overwhelmed with phrases of explanation. And baby man will not understand, and the world will judge us, and the ground unto which our feet kiss every dawn will fail to hold us up.

Women like us drown oceans, but the ocean has sharks.

My teacher says I should tell the people what I feel. I should say what exactly is in my mind. I look at her and smile, she looks nice. She smells roses. It’s a Friday and she has that small bag she carries, I assume the guy with a blue Volvo will pick her up late. She looks like she is looking forward to that. My face smiles for her and I wish and hope her smile is genuine, not like mine. I hope the guy in the Volvo is not just looking for a warm hole. And at that instant, I frown a little and clench my fists. Maybe it wasn’t a little, because hers also frowned. But being me is a talent, you master the art of masks.

I want to tell her that I can’t tell the world what it wants to hear because that is the case. There is war in my head. There are a yin and yang to every part and fiber of my body.it is like I am an angel with horns, a devil with a halo. I speak poetry even when I’m trying to be friendly and everyone ends up standing up. I want to tell her the truth, I want to lay it on the table, and maybe she will help. But the guy in the Volvo is outside, just arrived. I see her look at her phone, she smiles, and her nipples are hard. She stands and walks across the room swaying her round ass seductively and I drown my sorrows in tomorrow.

She held my hand. I close my eyes. It is no longer women like us. Rather, a woman like me. A woman like me drowns in oceans



His Wonderland

The measure of pleasure was in the posture of her stature

The kindness of her mind that blinds not every sense of arousal

He experienced with her blouse off and his core on.

He would like to think of early mornings filled with groaning

As petals opened to the warmth of the sun, sun rise with its rays

And sun sets with its climaxes, the apex of it all.

He adored the midnight walks across the valleys and meanders of her body

Carefully crafted in meanders with wonders to behold

He loved the pants-down treasure hunt filled with pants and heavenly tantrums

The price tag for her pleasing, his daily cup of coffee for the taking

‘Good morning love…’

Picture Perfect: Is it?

I grabbed the glass from the side table and headed for the door. At the same time she emerged from her bedroom. She was all dressed, speaking on the phone and carrying a hand bag. She was leaving. I wanted to be surprised, but how could I when routine was so easy to look forward to. To predict. We had made plans earlier on of going to pick some vegetables from the market since it was the weekend. I didn’t know why I dad expected her to honor the agreement. She looked at me for a split second. I was still holding the bedroom door with a glass in other arm. Immediately she held her phone between her should and the ear and balanced. I was given 2000ksh. Probably for the vegetable and food. She mouthed a few words, I nodded. I didnt hear what she said. It was probably the usual, something came up, business calls, meetings. You know, the slogan of a lady got to do what a lady got to do.

I retreated back to my room without a second thought and collapsed on my bed head first. I folded enough fabrics of sheets in my palms and allowed it to absorb my anger. I breathed out heavily. At least I tried. From a distance, I heard a car pull outside the gate and a few seconds later it was gone, she was gone.

I started shaking. My head became clouded. I sat up and crisscrossed my legs as my eyes got fixed on the door. I strayed a little looked at the money on my bed. I thought of going to the grocery store. Maybe if I did, there won’t be any reasons for him to get mad at me. Maybe I would avoid the encounters. I quickly grabbed the money and slipped it in my sweatpants. I ravaged through the pile of clothes on the extra bed for a hoody. I rushed to the kitchen, placed the glass in the sink and picked a shopping basket.

G was at the gate. Perfect. I remembered about my earphones on the bed. I rushed for them and as I was about to leave the front door, I bumped into him. I dint hear him come. I look at G for a second as he closed the gate. He apologized with his eyes. What could he do? A fresh cloud of mist covered my eyes as they darted between him, G and the gate. He is smiling at me.

‘I saw your mother leave. Where are you going?’

I moved out of his way without talking to him. He grabbed my hand with a sift sweep of speed and such energy like the one you impact on a criminal. I flinched. I didn’t cry. I know what pain feels like, and this was not pain.

‘Didn’t your mother teach you any better on what to do when people talk to you.’

‘I have to go get groceries’

I reply in a sober and sort of calm voice. I was shaking but hell knows I could ace a drama test of acting. There was fear in my clouded eyes. I looked away. He tells me that vegetables are not important. We could get them tomorrow. I try to protest but the grip on my hand tightens. I’m not scared of the grip on my hand. I’m scarred of what will happen after. I’m scared of what is in his eyes. He says he is tired. He says he needs coffee, he has had a long day. He shoves me in the house. As I stumble inside, I take a glimpse of G. he looks away quickly. He didn’t see anything as usual. That is always the case, in this side of town neighbors and have eyes but they don’t see. They have ears but they can’t listen.

As I head to the kitchen, I hear the lock being turned and key being removed. I practically sprint to the kitchen. I know he doesn’t want coffee. There is no coffee. I try to be comfortable. In this hell of mine, I try to adjust to the familiar heat. His feet, I can hear the sound he makes as he approaches. I am standing by the sink. I am thinking of the park and ice cream and stories of unicorn. But the more I think about it, the worse it gets. The unicorn gets destroyed.

‘its gonna be alright’

I tell myself as a blow lands on back.


I’m the hate in your heart
The demon in your gates
The fate you can’t escape
I’m the anger in your voice
The hunger on your tongue
I’m the rage in your words
A hostage in your soul
A force of breakage
I dare you to breath
Im the sand in dimes
The slope in Grand time
The sole of your dream
I’m the flames in your phrases
Regrets at dawn
Monsters at dusk
Midnight marauding nightmares
I’m the pain you can’t drain,
the lies that try to pry
and the hurt that prey
The silent curses when you pray
Unreturned love
Unfathomable favours
I’m your suicidal thought
Your tidal wave of shame and guilt
I’m your lost thank you note
When peace is approaching
The untamed suffering
A wild fire of misery
Am ocean of mystery
Highway to hell
I’m the bad you solely seek
The good you can’t find
I’m your loudest demon
Yet you wake up to me every day

I’m you


Pain is seductive, it gnaws on your brokenness. Pain knows how to slither in to your subconscious and be company in your lonely. In your lonely, depression is present and thoughts, well, thoughts are well represented should minutes be taken. Pain is selectively seductive and it had found a way.

What do we call this disease of not having the eye for genuine things? For those that give life and love and everything nice? Seeking the pain in pleasures, the tears in pleasers, the anger in gratitude? What do we call the desire to break things before you can love them?

Everything you touch, tumbles down. Whatever ground you step on, results into sinking sand.

It’smidnight, there’s cold coffee in my mug. The coffee maker machine had been cold but my whiskey bottle is half empty and my bedside cold. The ring of my phone, what the hell. I’m at this familiar spot again, drifting towards the broken. My head is clouded and foggy, there’s mist in my eyes. There’s a lump in my throat and weights upon my shoulders.

Youcould be somewhere else now, next to a warmer body but you choose the cold distance between our souls. You reach out your hand, I recoil back and further away in my corner like a tortoise. You are familiar with the face. I hear your deep breaths. You are calm.

How the hell can you afford to be so calm? What are you? Doesn’t it bother you? Don’t I bother you? I remember all these like one of those written episodes. But this was once real.I want to reach out and strangle the calm in you. How do you do it? How do you cope with me, I can’t cope with myself? I feel the arousal of the knives in my stomach.

I hate this part. It is at this point when the little demons start to walk. I prepare my ears for the screams to follow. The hollow in my heart, the fading of the glow.

You are awake. You are staring at the wall, listening to my heaving. From a distance you are watching me break down in tiny pieces. It breaks your heart. But what can you do? You can walk away. You can run from so this madness and never look back. You can walk away from this darkness that you never have a chance of understanding.

You can forget of your presence in this place. But you don’t.The whiskey bottle is empty. It rolls from my hand, slides down the duvet and on the floor. I could use another bottle.Pain knows it’s home.

Pain knows how to summon my being. Pain has mastered how to be unpredictable. Pain is my master. And when the master calls..

Feel at home, there’s room in my heart.
What can I serve you?


I can fake a smile, sweet or sour all the same

I can take it all and run the miles, I can avoid mistakes

I can carry the load in piles and live in mental voids

I can walk through the hurricanes and hails

Storm the hell through hell even when pale


I can take the hurt; I can heart the flat flirt

I can laugh away the tears

I can drown the hiccup, I can smile the sob away

I swear I can shrug away the fears


I can cover up the paleness

I can wipe away the blood and say it’s nothing

I can assume and cover the fumes and the tears,

the wounds and the scars


But I am also human

I bruise and break when I fall down

I cry and curse when I can’t take it, Can’t fake it anymore

I scream and wail and kick when I drown

I flinch when it gets bitter


I’m only human

I get sad, I get mad

I miss the kiss and crave the bliss

I’m brave yes but fear the grave

I flip the coin and pray for the head


I am only humanIMG_20181113_171009.jpg

This Is You, you.

This is you standing at the brink of your own chaos,

Arms out, holding back the floods and the hurricanes.

This is you caught in the midst of your own mess

This is you falling apart,

Breaking to pieces during earthquakes of trauma.

Shredding into tiny specs as you try to stop the tornado from hitting you harder

This is you hurting, heaving and trying to heal.


This is you watching as joy is peeled off your soul and laughter scrapped from your skin

This is you trying to blame yourself, trying to say it was your fault

This is you, in the messiest part, right after it has happened.

This is you cursing the saints and blaspheming the gods

Creating sad musical noted with your vocals

This is you asking questions that you can answer,

But you have succumbed to selective amnesia

This is you watching the earth suck the life you created out of you

You watch yourself burn, bleed and beat yourself

This is you trying to believe in the goodness

And you are asking why, why did this come to be?

How could all this earthly chaos happen to me?

And I ask for an assurance, that this is how the magic happens

This is how I will see the fireworks…is it really?



I’m freaking, it’s sinking
it doesn’t sync well, I can’t put a finger touch
the distance between my palm and your face just inches away, but baby it looks like miles. I’m frowning in this oblivion, the need and desire, the fire, sired.
I’m drowning in the cold of the breath and mist, in the midst of this, I detest the haste I’m pasting on your canvas, but baby…
I’m suffocating in this air, I want but I can’t, so i beat me.
set me on fire, hot seat of judgement.
guilty as charged, hands bound, chained and chaired
I’m dying, flashing my humanity into hades kingdom.
I can’t see life in your eyes anymore
I can’t see myself on your mind anymore, my scent is fading from your skin.
baby please look at me, why can’t you? no, wait! I’m sorry I asked.
please don’t walk away, please stay!
I will go, but you don’t want me to leave
I don’t want me to go
baby please let me hold your hand, will you.
shall we lie here, here where our memories sing the song of our love tuned to the auto tunes of our vocalized strings. it stings, as the door swings on hinges of memory, you fringe, I cower.
baby please, listen
I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry I said that.
sorry I did that,
listen, I can… I can’t
just look into my heart, my eyes are blurry from storms withstood. look into my soul honey, see the hole.
baby please walk with me
the the night is dark, the weather is mystic and mythic, the path is haunted, these strokes are acidic.
baby how about music, no? it’s sick
but this was your favorite part, can we sing along?
honey I’m sorry, I can tattoo it on my skin
I can Braille it on my heart
I can sing atop Everest…
baby please, the coffee will get cold
the bathtub is too large, the mornings runs are lonely
my bedside is too neat.
do you hear me
are you listening

When I was a teen

Love was selfish, cunning and greed
Love was too little too late, never enough
Love was like tiptoeing in still waters
Love was a boy with plenty of options, cancelled plans, one sided effort.
Love was chase the winds until it’s calm
Seek shelter till storms are no more
It was a fill in space of “Now that I have nothing important, I can commit to you.”
Those were the teen years

When I hit twenty, love grew wings and became spontaneous like the swirl of monsoon winds, labeled with urgency
A need of beating odds by two people.
Love was tough and recklessness
It was slow but with wild motion of the notion of turbulence
Hiding in the midnight streetss for the fathomable
Love was missing someone but can’t find the time for them
It was believing in happily ever after but not willing to fight
It was claiming someone when you’re miles away
Love had no time, love had no home, no space
Love was on the move
Love, was always busy


my ripe years
I just got introduced to love
It wasn’t wild and wretched
It is appreciative of storms and the sunlight
Love embraces the dark and white
Love laughs, a lot, cries sometimes
Love apologises for the scars of sadness caused by others
But teaches you to appreciate the lesson
It transformed from midnight regrets to mornings spent laughing like you mean it. It turned from missing someone as you remain busy, to crossing borders and oceans for them.Love became“I want to give you everything you deserve; I want to show you just how much someone can adore you.”
Love was born bountiful and beautiful, not from shades of pain. And certainly, love became ruthless in declarations.


one day
when I have broken all my bones
folded all my dreams
and dried my skin in the sun’s heat

one day
when I have emptied the ocean in my eyes
and exhausted the salt in my tears

one day
when I have filled my ears with sand
and drained my veins
when my soul remembers no peace
and my mind forgets not the days of pain
of agony and sorrow
of horror and borrowed thrills

one day
when depression has found a permanent dwelling place between my rib cages
a time when I’ll look outside and see showers of victimization, fucking bloody showers

one day
when I can’t forget to remember to cry
when my scars are deep and red and fresh in flesh

that one day
when I’ll be sitting by the window
tearing away pages of memory
as the smiles of sunrise for once in forever greets my face…
you will remember me

that one day,
you will crave me
my voice, my sound, my scent

You will desire to see just a glimpse of me in your dreams,
but the only place reserved for you in the world
will be that tiny place between the ceiling and the roof
and my sunrise will be your sunset
one day…