no need for speed

I’m moving away, slipping away up the path and around the bend. I’ve been slipping away i say, looking forwards into the bright light’s ascent. I got sick of love twice, sick of the gnawing the pawing the strain. I got sick of the lonely thrice the boring, the clawing the taint. I’ve got a new plan and it involves no man, it involves a setting sun in the yard, the barren cement the smell of descent, the no look back, no more smack, just cigarettes, whiskey and beer. They say the written word is cathartic, i find it retarded, its form its perception its disdain. Then make it a basket weave it out of a carpet thats filled with burns and blood stains.

I visited Shongweni Dam settlement the other night with Gift my friend from Zim. The setting was brave and disturbingly beautiful. Soft orange sunlight, a river of veins, too many good wishes and patting on the backs. Good people, too good for me. I lost my cellphone again and drank 12 Castle quartz. Sat smoking weed in newspaper, discussing youth and folly, i leant backwards and fell into his arms. I got home at 3 in the morning.

I visited the hills the other morning with my mother. It was her first day out since the cancer started enjoying her stomach as a delicacy. Hard spiting light, a lake man made, a reservoir, a couple of arguments and flowers to pick. She’s a lioness, protecting her cub from bullies. I lost my patience and drank 12 Black Label quartz. Sat at my dad’s factory sipping coffee, watching the smell of hard work. I leant forwards and kicked Henry the chicken. I got home at 2 in the afternoon.

Some might think i have a lot of time to well, think but i don’t because i’ve been caught by the mob. I’m plotting my escape and it takes up all my days. I’ve been good, i’ve been worse, i got the keys to the hearse now i’m thinking of getting off the wagon again.

I tried it just once a couple of days back, it was disimiliar my old vice, my small treat. I cradled her amidst the subs, willing her to come back to me. Don’t leave i pleaded stay a while, have a cuppa, watch a movie, enjoy yourself. I’m your host, you’re my bug, my little bug eyed girl was staring back at me, but with no feeling behind the wet lashes, the star system is failing i’m afraid, the metaphors crept back. I owed them all money but couldn’t pay.

Busiwiwe was sick and now she’s better. Busiwiwe was sick but now she’s all better. Medicine. I’m trying to get organised. I edited, i wrote, i hung up the washing, i cleaned my bedroom, i reread a book, i attempted filing but just managed to make little piles on my desk. Little piles of files, little flies of my’s, little thoughts of new york and l.a. Best friends i can’t face and face’s i’ll never make friends with. I can’t find my place, i can’t find my phone. I guess i’ll just sit here, quietly, alone.