with not a minute to meditate;
with not a moment to sedate
this restless heart, this racing mind
with not a second to find:
words (words that mean stuff)
like I don't know-
I miss you golden boy
and your lafungi brother too
like I don't know-
this mind, its paper mache
and I guess I haven't got much to say
yes my mind is mush
but as such I'd just like to say
what's on my mind
what's on my paper mache mind-
let me tell you a secret
since the age of fifteen
I've be living in this strange dream
I've been struggling with this thing
-disassociation-
it's why I can so openly write
with no qualms:
let me tell you about it-
before leaving, this evening
I found myself in a basement
an underground basement
with some salafi sisters
belonging to a place
I can never go back to
and I watched
the otherworldly mufti
on the screen,
I wanted to feel something
so much i wanted to be affected
but I wasn't.... so I left
I went back upstairs,
and in the evening light
I sat on my silly swivel chair
and I swivelled round and round
round, till I was very dizzy
-it was trippy-
yeah it was trippy
but then I left...
always leaving
