March 19, 2025

‘Advice is for the weak and I’m in profit.

At the top of this tree, I sit, and no one will clock it. Day by day, I grow and swell; I understand where you stand and how deceit bloats common minds.

I’m not defined by my words, but inflation steals my time.’

DR. UNIQUE

Climate Change

Laying in state for far too long. I’ve had my eyes closed and my lips sealed with tincture.
My voice.

For a long time, the temperature rose and fell too quickly, too violently. I discovered the blueprint post-destruction. Though, I admit I had seen glimmers of this a while ago and ignored it.

Graduation was a spiteful entry. Absorption.
I became dehydrated and baked under the glaze of envy.

Fireworks ripped the restraints and broke up the mental chains of dystopia. For the first time in the history of our timeline, I chose myself.

Today, at this very moment, I sway my hands through clear blue water. I’m comforted by the sun.

My voice is heard, and honey truly heals.

To my cheese, my spicy cheese, thank you, forever and ever! I would never have woken up had you not found me.

An accurate flow, if ever I encountered one.

Russian Red

‘They asked if I knew who you were. I don’t give a fuck! They demanded my silence in exchange for their insecurities to be ignored. I truly don’t give a fuck! They insinuated a false narrative that shows them under the light of the Lord they believe in. 

I apply Russian Red by MAC on my lips, I place my braids into a side ponytail. I raise a tall glass of water and toast the frail body that encapsulates your corrupted soul. 

Remember this: the time and attention you devote in your attempts to knock me down only serve as bad energy that you pour into and cause yourself significant affliction. I still don’t give a fuck!’ – Dr Unique 

Liar – 20.09.2024

The way your lips move when you speak has always fascinated me.

Let’s be real; no one is interested in you.

The way your fingers twitch when you tweet, and your voice wails out.

Let’s be real; no one cares about you.

The way you lie and you lie, and you gaslight and lie and reverse over a swan you ran over earlier. Then you fall asleep. Wake up and swear to your God that you’re innocent, and you hate how witnesses are reporting your crimes. 

You cry out like a bitch to the feds about how your traits are on the line here, and you don’t think it’s fair that the news is printing eyewitness testimony.

After all, you know you’re innocent, right?

Let’s be accurate; you think what you think, and even the truth has no space in your life. So your head has you spinning, allegedly.

You make up shit and assume that the editor is spending time pouring gold on. She knows nothing about you, to write about you. However, past and present witnesses have the mic and the timeline of deceit, and most importantly, they can attest under oath that you regularly attack swans.

Crow chants out at 1800; your body bears witness to all your violent crimes. 

Your lips move and echo your lies, with tears and pain on the hour. You snarl and snigger at your brilliant ways of manipulation. You play victim so well, yet you hold the knife perfectly, not even bothered about cross-contamination; you raise, and you stab. You stab, and you twist. You twist and assign blame, stating, ‘Your response made me do this.’ 

Then you hide your weapons, you cry wolf and explain to the authorities that you were attacked! Your character was defamed, and your traits were contaminated.

Crow now perches on my left shoulder, and he plucks a prawn from my portion of King Prawn egg fried rice with the soya-ginger sauce in a small dipping bowl. 

We are silent in this space.

One of the surviving swans makes a statement that coincides with witness testimony.

You scream out, ‘I’m innocent’, as the detective finds evidence to prove you’re a liar. 

Liar.

Pockets – 19.09.2024

Every time you have the time and space to improve, you do nothing.

I hint as I speak, I highlight with red rings of fire. Yet you sit back and act like a bitch. 

Stomp your feet and throw yourself onto a bed of floral, fresh memory foam, and you peek before your soft landing.

You pluck out yet another appeasement and sprinkle it around me, hoping it remains as effective as the last dose.

You forget that all things have an expiry date, even plastic degrades, eventually.

I could draw a map daily, provide a flashlight and, of course, sustenance, and guide you myself, but you’d get lost again. I’d forever state how lucky you were to end up exactly where you started.

It’s a miracle.

Bless my soul for believing in you. 

These days, I don’t even get my hiking boots on. I sit in a cosy chair, sip hot chocolate and catch up with EastEnders. There simply isn’t time to volunteer anymore.

Crybaby – 07.09.2024

‘That’s not fair!’

‘What about life, is?’

You are there as a suppressant. I listen, I ingest, I digest.

My limbs aren’t getting me out of bed.

My eyes keep filling with tears and releasing streams down my face. My lips part, but my vocal cords are stiff.

My brain is screaming at me. Trapped beneath layers of your lies. Your deceit is fueled by my decline, nourished by my fear of growth. Yet you foolishly compare ‘accomplishments’ to credits you will never earn.

Crow shall not hide away.

Crow will not seal his beak.

Crow will never stand down.

Crow is forever.

Unique will not bend and serve.

Unique shall paint with every hue of blue.

Unique will speak through twisted coherence, and those who disobey will lose inexplicably.

Yes, I will console and consider. However, Crow will fly, and my voice will blend into everything.

There’s no escape.

Cry, cry, baby.

Direction

Right now, I feel good. Thank you.

Tomorrow, I’ll feel better.

In an hour, I’ll feel restful and at peace with last weekend’s peril and demise.

I’m thankful for being taught valuable lessons and for confirmation that my spirit is centred and my moral compass is aligned with my purpose.

Take the Stage – 17.08.2024

Tonight

My head is tired.

My thoughts are on high-speed.

Abandonment is painful.

Everyone goes, eventually.

Trust is costly, and time is a trait of age.

I’m frozen with the memory that my writing was admonished for expressing my feelings. I’m cold with the thoughts that I thought you would never behave in this way.

Even knowing my trauma, you opened the curtains and re-enacted one of the worst things anyone has ever done in my life. 

Today – 17.08.2024

He saw I was down, injured by shards of misinterpretation. No! Misrepresentation! The information was ambiguous and clearly indicated a meeting.

I bled out, and he asked, ‘What are you up to?’ 

Then left me there for 24hrs.

Thankfully, I managed to get help. Miraculously, I survived the night. Regrettably, I sent a text. Notably, it went unanswered. Lazily, one word was sent in response. Secretly, I pondered over my next move.

I’m awake now. I reckon I’ll be okay. My new scars cover old scars, hiding my love for the unknown and perhaps the inconsiderate. 

Tears are there, and a great escape is pending, but I push back. Well, step back. This is too much. 

Now he’s gone. 

Out of Office: 23.03.2024

No unwanted conversations or snakes burning their eyes out to forget how amazing I am.

The haters never congratulate; the fraudsters mingle and disassociate.

The pig oinks and climaxes over a bucket of fried chicken.

The haters whisper, trying to peddle a false narrative of success.

I remain silent.

No nasal intrusions; investigating lunch. Gone for a moment are the moments of the boring asking the same question, ‘But what next?’ Inside my mind, I hear laughter – my big brown eyes ask silently, ‘Who the fuck are you?’ I smile.

I remain silent.