I’ve always wondered why I repeat this cycle every week. Thursdays, through to Sunday. Then I wake up Monday morning with a Hiss and a moan, wondering why the weekend has come and gone so fast. At a point I thought it was for lack of a partner to spend time with, to occupy me with her warmth and intellect.
So I searched out for a partner, helplessly I’m fed up at this point. For it seems I have been a victim of my own undoing, either looking in the wrong places or seeking the wrong virtues. I’m spent and I can’t care less. I can have any woman I want but the question is ‘Is that really important right now?’
Me, a lover of fun and good things of life, not overly committed to many things but verse in arts and discourse. Will I define myself by who I’m with, at such a time as this?
I shake my head in disappointment. I am still susceptible to those lonely feelings though, craving warmth and companionship. For it is natural to. Yet it is something that vexes me because I have in moments of weakness such as the one I rise from right now let it be a means of defining me.
Now Thursdays are no more while my body says Friday is under consideration, yet it is glad that I agree with it for Saturday. So we a becoming one again. No more Play every Thursday, Dub-c is in probation and The Dome can be glad I’ll still be there.
Last week saw me at these three places, not to have fun naturally but more as a spectator, the party animals I had with me barely noticed my state of introspection. My body was tired and my mind had been starved. In dissatisfaction it berated me, turning out open and empty palms that craved information, instead they were held before my thinking eyes shaking and barely still. I felt a ting of guilt, yet those hands where held before my thinking eye a little longer and I gave in, I knew I had been my own worst enemy and I was full of remorse.
Then I remembered a poem I wrote when long ago I once thought I could go no further.
Looking at it now I just laugh;
Past me it seems,
When I would throw caution to the wind,
Dispense with decency,
Now I watch with almost aged eyes,
Careful of what I divulge,
My tongue has aged,
I wish not to admit that my body
I abuse this temple,
And time no longer hides its
My miles now seem short
As nicotine and alcohol have been my
I seem weary in the face of physical exertion,
Now I walk like a time bomb,
Uncertain when I will explode,
Or rather implode,
For I know the damage shall eventually be within,
Many times I have tried to take in the reality
Of this path I tread,
Many detours have I taken but back to
This path do still return,
To bask in the misty ambiance of tobacco,
Invest in the self imposed blur of alcohol,
Yes I am lost,
Yet my mind wishes to indulge,
As I hear the slurred voices of my companions,
They too walk their own paths,
They have begun to show sign of tiring,
Looking for the next detour,
I still walk this path,
Like I feel indestructible,
Or is it that I am immune to such consequences
As the cancers and the liver failures?
Yet I have heard tales of sufferers,
Those who have failed to heed warnings,
How their last days were engulfed with pain,
Not me I sometimes say,
I’ll die a ripe old age of 90,
Like I were my own God,
Till I cough blood,
Till I fail to rise in the morning maybe,
I’ll still puff and guzzle,
Throw away healthy living and laugh
And laugh at the fit and able.
Looking at this piece now, I just laugh at the sheer ignorance that filled me when I wrote it. I sure am tired, and I’m worried for my health as well. Let’s just hope my detour stays permanent.
I saw Peaches last week while submitting my last Performance clearance. She was with someone else but she gave me a few minutes of her time. She said she was having a good time at her new office then as she left she gave me a warm hug. That encounter was still fresh in my mind when I checked facebook on Saturday night. Lo and behold, she had put up several of her modeling pictures and boy did they look good.
I was tempted to give her a call I must confess, then I thought again, ‘it’s not like any thing would change’.
Truth is I miss her, not because I’m lonely, it’s more to do with the honest friendship we both had before things changed.
Then there were no obligations to call each other initially, we just hung out at a bakery near my office, talking about stuff, laughing. She had this habit of pinching me on my side then given you this feigned serious look when you teased her, at this point her jaw would begin to shiver ‘cause she was trying to hold back a smile. I really do miss those times.
Its most probably pride that won’t make me give her a call right now or in the near future. I’ll probably sit this one out sulking and hoping I’m doing the right thing.