Time – Saturday, September 6, 2025

It’s been a while.

I’ve often lied to myself, hoping my words would somehow become reality.

Recently, I intentionally apologised for something I did not do.

Imagine being ill and at every turn, you’re met with a fog of silence. Every other week, you may hear something, if you’re lucky enough.

For years, I have waded through this toxic forest and somehow mastered the art of masking.

For every ten new faces, I practice, practice, practice. The past few months have brought me to my knees. I bared my soul. I have buried myself in shame and disgust.

Yes. I’m deeply disappointed in myself for allowing him to plug in and farm my essence.

(2)

In the early hours of this morning, I laid her to rest. She fought back, and it hurts me to share this. I drowned her mind with the truth. I forced her to review all of those forms of connection. I passed her the blade and gave her the privacy to cut away each toxic string.

From the moment the star was violently thrown on the floor, she knew. Her ties to Jamaica are shared through genuine love and appreciation. However, regret consumes her, as the gifts were undeserving.

Many times she has arrived at the entrance of this portal. Her idea of ‘love’ is toxic and forever holds her back.

(3)

It has been twenty-four hours since she disconnected. Less than the five hundred and four hours he had waited to enquire.

He acted like a psychologist in a position of care and trust. Secured her trust for his reign of deceit. She had never liked silver or gold; her existence is worth more. He felt her energy and wanted to tap in whenever he needed her, akin to visiting a petrol station for more fuel. Only, he never imagined having to pay.

Over time, he drugged her with words and spiked her with intimacy. Encouraged her to share and trust…Essentially, he challenged himself to pillage from her kingdom, leaving her in his words ‘broken, overthinking and confused.’

(4)

May those who intentionally hurt others suffer. May redemption never become an option.

May the truth be set free and her lifeless connection stay disengaged with the influencer and connected to her heartbeats.

(5)

Ps. I know you hate me. Your true thoughts have been shown to me, through time.

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.

Value

Delighted

Brown Eyes

Burn Me

Pretend

Crow Returned Home

The End

Crow: Contents

Salty Saturdays: The Mom

The mom called her daughter a bitch.

She spat on her and accused her of sleeping with her best friend and another.

The mom punched her daughter multiple times in the head. She stuffed her mouth with cotton and wished her dead.

The mom choked her daughter and labelled her ugly. She felt that being dark was ugly. If you ain’t light then you ain’t right! Right?

The mom showered her daughter with negative thoughts. She always told her that she is nothing and will always be nothing.

The mom left marks on her daughter. Other moms agreed with the parts she shared with them. They spoke louder so the daughter could hear how disappointed they were with how she ‘treated,’ her mother.

The mom played the victim when confronted with facts.

The mom made sobbing noises on the phone to her friends. But her eyes remained tearless.

The mom blamed the daughter for everything bad in her life.

The daughter prayed and prayed and prayed.

Her eyes are so puffy from all the crying.

The mom lied and cried and lied some more. Her stories spread like a virus.