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.

Pocket

Interesting addition to the clothes I wear.

I add many things to this small, zipped, denim location.

Tissue, paracetamol, lip-balm, eye-drops, hand cream, lemon sherbet drops and a three page letter.

I wrote about 2020.

I transferred pain from my heart, to these pages, to my pocket.

I released everything. Yet, I keep memories folded and close by.

Maybe, they’ll wash away the deeper I stride into this scenic lake.

I’m blessed.

The only thing that matters is my birth.

Block

I’m sitting in a BMW i8.

It’s black with electric blue around the wheels and the headlights.

The seats are leather and heated, my ass is warm.

I’m sipping a cup of hot-chocolate made with oat milk. Cows milk is for baby cows.

All windows are up, I hate the sounds of those grotty voices nearby.

Does it look like my car needs cleaning?

Only me and I’m stuck.

Is there ever traffic at 0333 hours?

I’m not moving.

Engulfed in thought processes.

Delinquent of 70% responsibilities.

I’m not a passenger.

I’m not a red light.

I’m not another car in a queue.

I’m not even there.

Nightmare Series: Unique Is…

 A total mindfuck.

A wink and a stare.

Your best friend, who lifts you high into blissful moments.

Your lover, your one and only! A cherry kiss from her red lips.

An enigma.

A dream.

A quiet thought with a pinch of care.

One wrong move and Crow will gut you, right after or just before you ask God for forgiveness.

Unique is this thing that flourishes in your life.

Unique is?

Unique is an amazing thought process, wrapped up in pain and anxiety.

Don’t ask her to choose, life is full of commonplace varieties.

NEVER ask the opinion of everyday society!

Don’t stare too long, Crow will tear you from out of that seat at their table of peace. For one cannot dream of what Unique is, without something good to eat?

Unique is a mixture of warmth and ice, like cookie dough and ice-cream with added observations.

No cinnamon sprinkles, it’s fucking disgusting.

Unique is a plethora of stars made into human form.

Unique is living remnants of our universe from way back when.

Keep asking questions.

Keep watching your shadows.

Did you know, Crow prefers homemade banana bread?

Complete with heartache and suffering and that bitches ignorant head!

Unique is your bestie! Your homie beyond death you’ll never part.

Unique is pure mind-games, surreal like Dali art.

Unique is present, past and your future.

Unique is your tears as they profusely flow.

Unique is the end game and that is no joke.

STOP!

Ssh.

Crow is listening to your thoughts.

Unique is above average in fact beyond the range of online surroundings.

Unique is Pandora’s Box in a misunderstanding.

Unique is the gift of lava burning through your soul.

Unique does not exist in this world, therefore you’ll never know.

Remember to close your windows and lock your doors, the evil one flies through the night…

Nightmare Series: Pain

Hello.

I’m, I’m Unique.

I’m in pain.

Because you stabbed me.

I’m bleeding out.

Remember our first kiss?

I’ve been feeling pain, trying to hold on.

I’m cold.

I tried. Albeit haphazardly.

But when is it right to wanna end my existence?

The only thing I did wrong was choosing you to rest my heart on.

Let it be known that I truly believed that together we would be phenomenal. Only you don’t think you deserve a woman as amazing as me.

At the fall of my last tear, you turn your back and begin to cry.

Regret is your mindset.

Nightmare Series: Two Options

Water one.
Ignore the other.

Feed one.
Banish the other.

Praise one.
Lie to the other.

‘My one and only, I love you, baby.’

What about the other?
What about the other?
What about the other?

You never truly cared…

One night as you sleep peacefully with the one you chose.

The other will wake you with their screams of betrayal – it’s the lies that hurt the most.

You won’t have time to react as they’ve stabbed an ice-pick through your trachea.

The other went on to reap blessings in abundance.
The other went on to reap blessings in abundance.
The other went on to reap blessings in abundance.

It was 3 weeks before anyone noticed production had come to a halt. The one flew far away with cash filled in a rucksack and a statement on Wiki.

The other made a video about liars: ‘remember, telling lies is bad for your health and well-being. It ruins endless memories and life opportunities!’

The other scratches the end of their nose and whispers, ‘the other will always rise above you. Cut you out.
Cut you out.
Cut you out.’