See Mine

-

Teach me contentment ooh eyes, For as a man is so he sees. I cry for my eyes when I rest my head to snooze, God's loneliest creation. How much of the world passes through My pupil every single day I'm out searching yet it holds nothing, not even the slightest memory of the immediate second. The alarm to my sweat. I want this, I wanna become that!

I  envy the blind, to what greater heights do they wanna surpass, what of love, and if it's indeed blind, do they hold the greater understanding of it? ooh, world Teach me contentment for maybe it's only wonderful to be seventeen and know everything but this adulthood is a scam  Aren't thunderstorms a sign that even nature needs to cry sometimes?


But we are here already, not at seventeen and neither do we know at what time will we start getting the bread, will it be 9 am or 5 pm? So teach me contentment dear eyes, for in this society of everybody for himself and God for us all, or maybe God is for the blind, why need us? Only loving mine will give me peace.

Teach us contentment in this closed society of ours where we are all culpable of the hustle and the only crime will be getting snagged, maybe there's much freedom behind bars and as thieves, our downfall will be stupidity. So when we go out dear eyes, only see what's yours. But as I fall asleep I remember how much of the world pass through you yet you hold nothing so you'll continue searching and seeing.
How then will I be contented, should I lose the eyes?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How You See It

-
Men can be beautiful.  So this is a story about beautiful men, or rather, a beautiful man. A man of Perfect legal years, not young enough for sling bags and fake chains around his neck, nor old enough for a front shirt pocket where everything goes in first with a pen always hanging there, sometimes a rosary around the neck, a tucked-in T-shirt, safari boots, and khaki pants, just old enough and defiantly happy. It's also a story about words and their definition. Not from a dictionary, but from a perspective. Words are like chameleons, and it's all about where they sit that you can define the colour. It's also a story about familiarity and and it's effects. So it's a story about a lot of things. Of course, you never expect a story to be about a specific thing. Like a story about mangoes, a story can never be entirely about mangoes, or watermelons, or sneakers. A gentleman is standing in a Matatu that is almost two times filled. It's rush hour, and everybody is la...
Read more

Cate's Season.

-
Image
I'm at the door taking deep breaths, not the kind you do after a small mouthy dog has been chasing you. Those small things have a way of frightening everyone, like they can just sneak up into you and bite the most delicate part of your existence. So you find yourself running, unlike the big ones, you hardly run from them when they are serious, you just freeze and let your soul do the running. I'm taking deep controlled breaths, the kind you do when you feel a deep trembling in your stomach and your heart wants to jump out from pounding too loud, so you have to breathe deep to relax everything, and most particularly hold the heart in place, then try to act absolutely fine which sometimes has lot's of peculiarities and takes people with special eyes to see.  I'm very nervous, it happens when you know exactly what to expect but not how to handle it.  I ran into the old man at the door, always do, but he's always coming in on my way out, so I quickly figured there...
Read more

Fast Last Time.

-
Image
He made me, red-handedly staring at her artistic curve in her short miniskirt, too short to be considered a cloth but also not the traditional skin, it was complete all-round, no need to adjust it to your behinds when someone is following you The lights shining from behind understood the assignment, illuminating her inner thighs through the see-through piece of cloth she had around her bottoms but that wasn't my focus; how does she manage this cold? Is anyone up already to get some work? Early birds may be looking for some warmth perhaps, I wondered.  It must pay, she wasn't alone at that time of the day, and neither was she the pioneer of such hours of operations. Our eyes collided as I turned to look through the other side of the window, and we all smiled. It's a men's thing; we agree in the simplest form on anything we all find interesting. I've been there before   man. He started, they always do. I don't know how I get them to, but they talk.  I didn't g...
Read more