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Spiral thoughts

The life and times of a crazy adolescent with raging hormones and the mouth of a teenager whose definition of cool Is too utter the most foul words and phrases the human mind is capable of inventing.

Hi, I thought a more elaborate introduction would be a appropriate before unloading my most inner thoughts which aren’t as sensitive and personal as one would think. My day consists of the occasional swear word and a few sexual innuendos to start of before I got to insulting the weaker species, that is the geeks and obviously fat people. I hope I offend no one in this blog because I really couldn’t careless.

My thoughts, my mind, my words. Life is too short to be worrying about who cares and who doesn’t, who thinks what of you and all that rubbish. People are selfish, everything they do is to better themselves. I know you are probably thinking “but my parents care.” News flash they only take care of so that you can take care of them.

Don’t ever confuse love for caring….

Reintroduce


Hi at first glance what do you think you see. On one side I’m the guy who seems to have his shit together. A business man, self taught life guru. Socialite ? Maybe. A man with ambition, moral compass set at North and the values of a 19th century gentleman.

Now close your eyes, hear the noise. The rap music playing in the background screaming out explicit things. A mother shouting, a baby crying. Listen closer. No heart beat, no off cue breathes. No coughs, no sighs. The smell of burning cigarettes and under cooked chicken. 

Still think it’s the same person ? Well it is. A menace and gentleman with no place. I don’t fit in it’s that basic an answer.

Hell Of A Life 

I wonder about things. I look at life in a different light I would like to believe. I saw a baby crying today and wondered why the fuck would God make us so weak and pathtic. Little baby with his little baby balls. Grow a sense urgency why don’t you. But that’s just sadistic, I’m sure all he wants to do is sit back and suck on some tit. I don’t blame him, if I could right now I would suck on a tit too. All willy nilly taking life as it goes. 

That’s not how it works, that’s not the plan. My eyes have been tainted too much for me to see such a simple thing as sucking on a tit so innocently. Ah but I’m just a pawn. Playing God’s endless game of give and take sacrificed when the time comes.

Who would have thought, it’s all a little game. Life sized monopoly trading soul for paper I could probably wipe my ass with. Morbid view of life you think ? Not really I’m just realistic as hell. I’m not about to prance about thinking of tea and crumpets. I was born a slave, not to the white man never that. 

To the greatest for of communism. I praise an unseen king and pay for my sins with coins and currency. You may not see it that way but we’ve been paying our way to heaven for ages now. 

Oh well fuck it, at the end of the day I’m just gonna do me. Grab a tube of lotion and masturbate my mind out to videos of me fucking my fiance. Hell of a life

The Unemployed Man

I should probably go to church, or start my own church I feel like that’s become some sort of employment for others. Get my congregation to do something insane like buy Holy chocolate or something major. Claim that I have blessed batteries with the blessings of God and hand them out to unsuspecting idiots. That could really work you know. This unemployed life has me coming up with the weirdest things to make money. I’m pretty sure most of are like that now. Sitting there in the same spot everyday your mind begins to wonder. What absolutely insane ideas can I come up with. 

Today I found myself contemplating the difference between sitting on the left side of my couch and sitting on the right. I came up with scientific evidence (of course I didn’t) that proves that my right ass cheek was more comfortable. I have faith in this theory,  this is some ground breaking stuff people. Now I’m wondering what happens if you just had one ass cheek. The horror. This calls for some random googling surely. 

An in depth research into one’s possession of both functional butox. It would be an epic thesis. Genius. I will publish my work and maybe I just might get on the radar of some magazine or blog. Who knows don’t ever downplay the mediocre. 

A Collection Of Sad Stories

I do not know whether its difficult for me to find a person that truly cares. It’s a cycle I think. Im God’s little puppet and the games just never stop. To be truly honest I thought my heart would be used to this by now. It’s really bad you know. In what world, in what space even. What does it take to just be numb to it all. The disappointment, the hate, the over bearing self righteousness. I guess on will always be stuck. Playing the same gave over and over again its pathetic. Human emotions are pathetic. I sit and wonder about how great I could be if I did not have this one fault. This one thing holding me back, but its there always lurking and watching over me. Thing is l cannot give up, that would mean He won. The almighty with plans set out for me, a whole destiny set out for me. I met a Christian the other day, we had an interesting conversation. “God has a plan for you”, he said. So I asked him a simply question, what’s the plan. No answer. If he has a plan for me that means he knows everything that’s going to happen on my life right ? The Christian agreed. So his plan is for me to be in his grace and almighty glory ? The Christian agreed. So I asked one final question, if I pulled out a gun and blew my brains out is that God’s plan too ? The Christian disagreed this time, shocking. Sadness os rampant in my life. It’s the only constant and the only thing that’s really stuck. See I’m starting ti think me and sadness could be buddies. We smoke together, drink together we are quite a pair me and sadness. Even in those moments of silence. In those rare incidents where I do genuinely smile, sadness is there. Like a shadow in the sunlight. Stronger the sunlight, stronger the shadow. So cheer to my old buddy. My everlasting friend. Cause when it really comes down to having my back sadness never let me down.

Intimacy

See.

See…

Into Me.

Into Me See

That though my exterior is sub zero

You melt me like a Popsicle in Saharan heat.

Into me see that

Though I exude the confidence of a psychedelic freak,

I am a fragile daisy wailing,

“Don’t break me.”

Into me see that

Everything I share,

Is shared with the care of an

Overprotective, overwhelmed damsel with a shattered heart streak.

I am not what I portray,

Weaker than porcelain,

Feathers strong than me,

Into me see that…

I need you but I fear you,

I see you but shake near you,

Fear that you’ll figure me out once

You see into me.

Intimacy.

See

See

Into me see

Though my words are as cold as the winter snow

I only seek to ignite the fire within

Into me see that

Though your touch seems unwanted and unappreciated

I only fear for the darkness behind it

“Don’t use me”

Into me see that

Love scares me

And your very existence shakes the core of my resolve

That I can no longer hold back what I’ve been fighting to do

Shatter

Break

Crack all my insecurities

Into me see that

I fear to need you

I shake to be near you

Fear that you will run away from me

Once you see

See into me

Intimacy

By Chipo Biti & Kuda Mkudu

Play

Sometimes I wonder why I continue to treat my thoughts as a prostitute. Constantly parading their unexplainable beauty in a manner most foul. Why would a person sell them short, why for peanuts are my words constantly parading your mind. Slowly caressing your medulla oblongata to achieve mental orgasm. An explosion of words like no other but like everyone else if that even makes sense. My mind is a prostitute, cheap, dirty and to be frank, in it for the money. If words can start wars and break hearts then that should be my aim shouldn’t it. Creating a mental image blah blah blah …. This author thing can get annoying at times. You sit there thinking of all the things you can say and all the ways you can say em and at the end of the day neither makes any sense. You share it with friends and family and to them you are gold. Your stories remind them of past times or last feelings, so they think. But deep down within yourself you know that without a doubt that everything, every line is utter bullshit. Unsatisfied unchallenged incomplete this is what my writing has felt like lately. Nothing new nothing old just the same old shit… Anyway I’m just a dude in a universe full of stuff. Unable to play. Now I currently find myself miles above the land staring at city lights and wondering what people are up to. What are their thoughts and dreams. Or rather what they will get up to. Took a while to realise that it doesn’t matter really. My mind is always alive with thoughts and stories. Working always working and I have no way of turning it off or a reason to either. It’s probably what gets these so called creative juices flowing so who am I to argue about it really. I’ve gotten some pleasure from people reading my stuff and liking it. But that’s all it is, just pleasure. I could get that from eating a piece of 3 day candy.

Chains

my heart is heavy
how one can feel so much emotion towards another is bafling
how one could be mezmerised by trouble is beyond crazy
the way your perfume awakens parts of my soul that i thought were dead
how your lipstick draws me like a magnet
addicted by your kisses…
and yet sickened by the way i love you

dying inside and yet feeling so alive when im around you
you’re saddistic and thats what makes you interesting
you’re enigmatic…and egocentric
you’re the 21st century version of Medusa
one look in those sexy hazel eyes and i’m dead
and yet i cant get enough of your love
what is it that keeps drawing me closer to you?

you’re nothing but trouble…
your smile is warm and welcoming,
and yet you’re heart is stone-cold.
i gave you my heart…but instead you wanted my soul
i should have left…but it seems as if im chained to you
like i belong to you instead of us being one
everytime i tell you im leaving,
i take one look into your eyes and then im dead again

you got me in chains for your love
and yet i dont want to change anything about our love
i’d rather be broken with you….
….than die in misery without you.
is this love or is this lust?
is this commitement or is this bondage?
is this attachment or am i just in chains for your love?

By Calyce

image

The Wasteman

Have I cheated before? Yes

Do I have a reason that will reinforce your belief in me? No. I doubt I care. I am not the first man to cheat I will not be the last. My reasons as inadequate as they seem suffice for my own selfish needs.

Do you need to believe what I am about to say? No

It may be lies to you but this is my reality, a reality where all things that seem conjured hold truth.

Have I ever been in love?

Doubt it, love requires commitment and the fact that the person I thought I loved is no longer my person says a lot about the situation. My belief in love however has not been tampered with. It is simple, when you cry does that make your future happiness any less real? People cheat cause they feel as if something is missing this is true but people also cheat for something as simple as forgotten sensations. How long will the butterflies bat their wings in my stomach when I see her? How long will the rush of blood through my systems endure?

Do I want her? Yes.

But that is just a temporary feeling who knows how long it will last. I do wish it was different, yes, l wish it was eternal, an everlasting flame that would rival the sun. But like the sun everything has its time to shine and a time to let the darkness in.

Would you let me be your superman your own personal hero flying in at your request.

Will you let your head rest on my chest as you share your pain with me? Or am I the Joker, am l only here to show you a greater despair.

Will it wound your pride to know that you were wrong to choose me?

You are hurt I get it, but I will not be the last to hurt you just like I was not the first.

Will you choose me? A known evil you have come to call friend or will you choose the unknown and venture out into the abyss like Christopher in search for greater planes?

Make your choice wisely we do not get second chances. We simply begin again.

Chapter Four : Grey

We are all judged for the mistakes we have made in life. “let he without sin cast the first stone”, this is what the Bible says but people rarely follow this advice. Being judged was never the actual problem really it’s when your own parents lose faith in you, that’s when you feel like your world is crumbling. It’s one thing for people to look down upon you but your parents being embarrassed to even be associated with you is the pits.

My father is a stubborn man but above all he is a moody man. Being on the wrong side of one of his moods was not a good thing at all. He could shut you out for months maybe even for years at a time. I understood at a later stage in life that is, I mean it’s not like he had a father figure to look up to or to follow or maybe it was just me trying to justify my father’s actions to make it easier on me.
After failing and being kicked out of University all the respect and love I gained from family members slowly faded. With all the promise I showed gone they probably realised that their future “life-line” was not going to turn out quit as they had hoped. I was the first in my family, cousins included, to make it to university. After all  my elder cousins before me either got pregnant or fled to foriegn countries all the pressure was put on me. I didn’t mind at first, ill educated about the true motives of man I didn’t think that their intention were impure in anyway.

I mean there is just something that happens when you go to these advanced Universities. Mixed with so may different cultures and customs you can imagine how many things your mind is opened up to. I was a foriegn student and to others it was to exploit such simple minded souls who didn’t believe that people could use you for their own benefit. As foreign students we are exploited by a system that says it’s there to safeguard our rights. I was naive to think that in a foreign country I would have rights at all.

Now here lies the problem, after spending two years across the border my mind became liberated in a way. I became radical, my thoughts always focused on flaws of the system. By the time I got home I could see how the rest of my family leached my father for all he had and not caring about our well being at all. Bunch of freeloaders really but I guess he couldn’t understand that. A falling out of sorts happened as he thought I lived “the good life” all these years under his roof.

Me being my father’s son the stubbornness that was in me also came out and we found ourselves engaged in many verbal battles. Now this had a profound effect on my mother being forced to choose a side, either my father or me. Obviously it would reach a stage where I was disowned by my father and set financially free of him. The repercussions one could never fathom or even come close to imagining the emotional damage or had on me.

With the loss of a father figure I turned to the only thin I knew could numb the pain, drugs. Usually when we heard the word “drugs” it excites us knowing that pleasure is surely immanent after consumption but there something different about using while you are in a  depressed state. It’s not as if the effect is dull not at all but the dependency creates a certain desperation. Financially unable to afford the very substances I need to stay sane I turned to other methods of obtaining money.

Now I’m not proud of the things I have done in my life but this was my lowest point and with no one to turn to I had to make my own moves. It’s all good to have friends to drink with and celebrate with but when the darkness comes, when your troubles become more than just a grey stain on a white shirt you friends will leave. I didn’t blame my friends for not helping me, I had come to understand the selfish nature of man. Had it been them in my position I probably would have done the same.

So there I was lurking in dark alleys, scavenging for food in dustbins and trash cans behind restaurants. I had to survive no man can judge me for this. I would wait till it was dark, that was always the best time, the moment a person would walk past I would dash straight towards them aiming for either the purse or bad they would have. Im not proud of it but yourself in my shoes and try imagine what you would have done.

I spent a couple of months on the streets earning some much needed education on family and compassion. It didn’t take long for my resolve to be broken sending me crawling to my father asking for forgiveness. That look he had on his face, wasn’t a look of anger or shame, neither did he mind my foul stench and hideous appearance. It was the first time I have ever seen my father cry my whole life he had been a stern man.

Sure we can depend on friends and cousins, all subsets of our initial family but there is no one in the world who will ever love you as unconditionally as your parents. That sort of love you can’t find anywhere else, so one must be aware of these “real friends” that will drop you like a fly the minute your life turns to grey. I know personally about this I had many I called brothers yet I don’t even know where they are now.

…………… CHAPTER END………..

Chapter Three: Black

One can’t even imagine the amount of fornication and sin that happens during the night. Under the cover of street laps within the shadows, lurking. Once you get involved in it, it’s a hard place to walk away from. We all have been down dark paths but some obviously darker than others. I’m sure they are people out there who have done things that will make every sin I’ve committed look like a simple lie. Consumed by anger and hate, for obvious reasons, I couldn’t care less about women. Not that relations with the opposite sex had stooped no it wasn’t that. The whole concept and idea of feelings didn’t make sense, I couldn’t grasp it, in fact I don’t think I even wanted to. Late at night is when I usually took my daily walks. Gave me a chance to reflect on the day and on the things to come. Now the neighborhood I stayed in was really notorious, known for having gangsters, pimps and prostitutes on every corner. I know it’s hard to believe, I know it sounds like a scene out of one of those cheap Hollywood movies that hardly make any income but it is true. These things do happen, things really do go bump in the night. There I was walking with the baddest of the bad with nothing to fear. I was actually a bit arrogant about it really didn’t care what would happen to me or where I would end up. Just me in my black jacket with a cigarette in my mouth, a true “bad ass”, excuse my French. During one of my night walks a prostitute pulled my hand begging me for “business “, I quickly pulled away disgusted by her. I asked her what she meant by the business and she proceeded to say. “Aren’t you a man, aren’t I a woman. What else is there for us to do.. ” I remember getting home and pondering over those words for hours. Wondering how she felt, does she actually enjoy it and how much does she make. Days went by and the thoughts never left my head they just circled my mental day in day out with no end. Finally I broke, it got to me, I needed to know what it felt like. Grabbed my black jacket and lit the cigarette as I was walking out the front door. It didn’t take long for me to run into a whole herd of them. Cut off all emotions, needed to be ruthless for this. My eyes shifting through all of them, too skinny, too fat, ugly, smelly…. Couldn’t find one attractive enough. As I turned to walk away I bumped right into her, perfect, she was just the right weight, height and everything. She was just right. I was looking at her but not in the way a man would look at a woman he loves or even adores, no not in that way. She looked like meat to me, thats what it felt like. I mean that’s the thing they don’t tell you about it, it’s like a scavenge. Let me explain. Lions hunt for their meals because of the thrill of the hunt, the rush it gives them I’m pretty sure the feeling is almost orgasmic but the hyena doesn’t have time for all of that. The hyena is a scavenger, no thrill of the chase, no blood rush or adrenalin boost. Just simple survival, that’s what it’s about. Didn’t have time to take of her clothes simply pulled her panties to the side and proceeded. Every thrust felt different, I swear I could feel myself getting lost deeper and deeper into the abyss. I hated her, I hated myself but I didn’t stop. With the finale coming closer she let out this low key moan. I knew it was fake and she knew it too but I guess those are just the tools of the trade. Wouldn’t blame her for it I understood that she had to do it just to make me feel more alive in the moment. After the payment she was on her way never to be seen by me again not that it would have any effect on me at all if I was to encounter her under different circumstances. We went our separate ways, her back to her struggle and me back to the student life. I thought it would feel different, like some cloud of regret would come over me but it wasn’t like that at all. I felt fine, super even, no regrets no turning back. In fact the whole idea excited me a lot. Before I knew it I was back on the streets, jacket on cigarette in hand, scavenging. You can imagine after time they all seemed to look the same, same tatty clothing, same sad daddy story. I’m pretty sure some of them thought I cared but with each new girl ‘experienced’ my sympathy meter was out of order. I couldn’t care less about their well beings as humans, they were meat. What I didn’t realise is that this new dark side I had developed would affect every aspect of my life. Even at school I began to drift away, the ‘meat’ there was irritating to me. My friends noticed the change and tried talking to me a couple of times but ‘meat’ talks too much. I finally hit rock bottom when my mom became ‘meat’. Her voice trembled over the phone as she begged me to talk to her. I was absent minded don’t even know where my thoughts were that day. As mothers do she gave me a lecture about life and how she had struggled to make sure that I was able to get a good education. Thats the thing about growing up with no father figure, there really is no one to put you back in line. I’m certain I heard my mom’s heart break over the phone but I was too blinded by my own darkness to care. I regret it. …..CHAPTER END…..