Tuesday, 21 November 2017

GOOD BYE IS A GOODBYE




PRESTON ;


The bird lifted confidently from the ground.... This is your captain speaking... Fasten your seat belt....Two beautiful and sharply dressed stewardess stop by and I post my order.... Drunk in thoughts.... How I wish this bird will touch down in Mali... Or somewhere in Duala....

Early morning and the sun is seen comforting the hue at the peak of the Kilimanjaro.... The yellow panoramic view.....Seemed to carry the words goodbye... Felt empty.... Was empty....

This is your captain speaking...We are now flying over the Indian ocean....I now get selfish and wish this vessel just blew into a thousand pieces.... The boom be my goodbye...Or maybe some salient winds blow enigmatically and send us crushing 2000feet below....

I lack what I live for.... Or just fly into the peak of the Manjaro ....And if by any chance I survive I will freeze to death......I hope it will.... Take the last picture in mid air... It will act as a souvenir to my loved ones... Those that will not have the previledge of my goodbye....

©Hurt_Surgeon

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Tuesday, 24 October 2017

WISHY WISHY.




PRESTON :

I lay softly in my bed.... I pat my own back close my eyes breathe heavily.... I wild thought manage to ooze from my lips.... Huuh life well lived.... It's not normal right.... I thought so too.... I don't have tears in my eyes.... I even think my tag hurt surgeon is useless....

I suspend my hands and legs mid air... Wondering what happens next... Should I write my favorite words or my last words.... Today in the morning I looked in the mirror I didn't realize that I've grown old with wrinkles....My eyes bulgy and a shade of black on it..... I try to escape reality....


Writing doesn't do the trick anymore.... You don't know how many people I've killed in my thoughts...Or how times in different ways I've killed specific people...You don't really know how many times I've committed failed suicide....

But that just part of the history.... I wanted to call you.... Let your number be the last thing I dialed... It's easy and satisfying to link you with my death....I would wish I be present though silent to listen to you lying to the whole world...Just like you did to me....Maybe your father....No your mother would regret her classes....

I want to write on my Facebook.... Gone down to count the dead...But that is too ambiguous... I want to talk to Shakespeare....Or Romeo...Or Valentine....I want to go back in history and erase the phrase " Romeo Romeo where for thou art".....

Also I want to lay down...Let my people vote their president...Watch him being pronounced then cough the last chocking air.... Mid way on my death write or wrong... Write you a message... And on my bedroom wall write in blood....she that I love hurts me....


©Hurt_Surgeon 2017™

TOO CLOSE TO CLOSE.




PRESTON.


I sat down on the cliff... Where I sat months ago with my girlfriend looking at the city....But now the air wasn't divine and the city was inglorious....The beautifully architectural design of building and pavement were covered in dark smoke and stench of death......

It had been raining for days now... I lost track of what happened during that election day.... You see the two antagonists groups were just chanting and dancing.... It was on TV .... The whole world was glued to the large silver and black headlines on their screens...." Kenya decides....

It was barely few hours after polling stations to open that sur names immediately started to matter...And those who didn't like the spelling of your second name simply did not like your existence......

Far away but not too far.... Military tanks and amphibious were matching....The heavy metal jackets on the streets of major cities.... Those that were lucky fled to their rurals quarter and sunk in prayers..... The rest of us were busy hoping....

The Flickr on could see from a far is the bright red yellow amber flame consuming with pleasure what it is that it consumes.....I swear I don't know who the president is.... I swear I don't know which party won.... I lost track of time too.... The whole atmosphere was filled with stenches of dead and dying screams..... It was tainted with the foul aroma of decays human souls....


I opted to jump off the cliff.... But I feared if I survived... I would not write history on borrowed pen and paper.... The dark smoke filled the sky and you could barely see the stars.... The one glorious land.... Became a battlefield of a fight we never knew..... The little joke we played online because an ugly ordeal offline.....It was too late.... I remember seeing n.korea sending food relief....



 ©Hurt_Surgeon2017®

Friday, 22 September 2017

YOU & I



PRESTON:

 
I was not so happy being lonely

Living without you
So I prayed so hard for your love

In my heart I needed you
So I looked up in the sky
And I'm thinking why o
 why

There are  many changes in my life

After all the caring and the laughter

No one else like you
I am not a preacher with a sermon

I'm so in love with you
'Cause to live without your love

>>Like the sun that shines above>>

Is the magic of the changes in my life
And I'll never forget your love

You and I

We were meant to be
Sweet as rain falling from the sky

You and I

These are all the many changes in my life

Listen to these words I wanna give you

if only you knew you are the only reason i believe in God...

On a love so true
Don't forget I love you and I need you

I'll always be with you

So I just look up in the sky
And I'm thinking why oh why

These are all the main changes in my life
And I'll never forget your love

You and I

We were meant to be
Sweet as rain fallin on the desert sands

©Heart_Surgeon

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

ASYLUM



PRESTON :

This is why when I die... I don't want to see you cry.... A message of condolences to those that lost me.... The north eastern winds blew passionately.... Through my hands and it turned the course of my heart.... Sitting at the window of my rented hotel room....I reminisce about my before.....

Lanterns to illuminate my dark path grow dim.... Belief of a godly reliance orchestrated in my within.... Dreams inseparable from nightmares....And this nightmares are the dwindling facts of my existence......So when I loose a leap....Don't cry for me.....

Moment of silence to those judging me from my past.....Thoughts streaming concurrently with the steam of this hot coffee.....In the Atmos fear of the unknown ... I try walking with my eyes closed.....

I'm am feared revered.. praised and denounced...I had already told them when I miss the morning grace..... Lock me inside my 6"3"6 hole by noon....And don't cry for me.....

I am a sinner....I don't pride in it... But I'll do it till my day cries..... Sometimes I feel like a mad man.... But the presence of mad men make my madness normal... Lost all hope of liberation....Till my lantern gets bright

©Heart_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Monday, 18 September 2017

OVER AGAIN.




PRESTON:

I was standing face to face with a war dragon...Not so close but close enough to feel it's breathe and engine roll... As it engineered it's enormous metal on the streets of our deserted estate....It's heavy metal trunk was pointing miraculously to my nostrils...

The thick, smoke filled death tainted air... Began chocking... I didn't run away from my angry neighbors... Just to die here.... My frail legs were numbed by The walk.... It was almost noon but funny we had not seen the sun for a whole week now....

The magnificent paths of and well manicured roadside gardens of my city were now filled with debris of collapsed or collapsing building.... Soldiers from all well known super powers... The UN and African Union were matching  religiously from Street to Street.... Some were smoking... Maybe they were relaxing... Some were wiping there tools of workmanship....

By now we had already looted all the loot ables .... Killed one another and we had nothing to loot or kill..... Once in a while BBC Swahili would would brief the situation as perceived...All local stations played our national anthem continuously and repeatedly as if it carried a different meaning from what it was known....

White walls were either stained with blood, soot or bullet holes.... All major roads covered with stones boulders, tires car wrecks and human carcasses.... The city clock that sits magnificently died at 12:17 on October 20....

Frail wails screams and cries had just been so Normal... That you never turned to see who was being killed anymore.... Tired hungry children would be seen crying next to the rotting carcasses of there parents....

Expensive Italian suits were over dressed and started loosing shape and texture.... Those humanly foreign news reporters would be seen giving food aids to those running.... In actuality we were all running.... Running for something or running from something....

Last updates said... All the refugee camps around were filled to the brim... My hopes got lost and I knew.... I was lucky to write the last events before my death.... .I took the left turn towards muindi mbingu Street.... And meet my judgement.... What is your second name they asked... I knew very well not to tie myself to a tribal cocoon.... Before I could answer....

My mother shook me from my slumber....


©Heart_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Friday, 15 September 2017

DREAMS & NIGHTMARES



PRESTON :

I was too tired to even pen down my name....With flashes of my before days... It was so hot in my plastic bag tent...Here in the heart of Somali....Tuned to the national radio... With hopes high it is over....

I held my little brother's hands and assured him it's OK.... But deep down I knew it wasn't... We had just robbed him his natural sanity.... News from Nairobi started it was a nuke shell.... I didn't have the chance to see it.... But I believe them....Stray tears run.... And questions pop up.... Will I ever get home??? I might be lucky I made it here... How many did not....

It all started hours after polling stations were closed.... As soon as counting started....It's not clear who won.... Because the internet was shut down and lights gone..... Faint screams and chanting were heard miles away..Stray bullets and blasts.... The stiff air was filled with stench of loss, defeat, burnt tires smoke and death....

To where I was... My speech heavily tainted with a Polish accent I'm not African I'm I.... Tried speaking a few native languages but I was betrayed by my errudite state........

I hear they burnt everything in the lowside and came looking for us.... The middle and the well to do... It's a struggle I painted on a canvas and wrote my name on it.... I wish it will make it to the museum....

The hate We wrote on the internet.... Now was written on metallic pangas machetes and axes.....Our mistakes was having the wrong surname at the wrong period....No one knew when you would be dragged into the darkness and your screams... Be your Goodbye....Expensive homes and vehicles stood deserted in parking lots and affluent estates.... It was too late to say proudly Kenyan.... Local radios repeatedly and continuously played the national anthem...

Aids come from even the poorest of countries... We had lost all glory.... For the first time again we were all united by griefe... Completely forgetting about our last names... In this diverse conditioned camps.... No clothes to change....

I pointed south and said to my little one.... Doors shall open.... But it's too late.... Corpses lie haphazardly and awkwardly on the streets....Car alarms called until the batteries dies off.... Malls, supermarkets and shops were looted and doors flange open.... Misty winds blew... Broken glasses and shuttered Windows.... All major roads blocked with stones and tyres....

Press statement from the government and opposition.... And I woke up...  My plane just touched down in Austria...

 ©Heart_surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Friday, 18 August 2017

WRONG THOUGHTS.


PRESTON:


I'm tired of crying so I sit down and write....It's 2am in the morning and the world just seems right...This dark corner in my room is warm, hotter than the cold outside...

Today I'm feeding my thoughts with memories...And the wrong choices I made...I don't really regret being a poet or having a cold heart either....

Most of you cry about heart breaks and stories of poet... Your story gave me a heart ache.... But do you really know how it feels to love and fail.... To choose and not be chosen....I really want to curse someone today....

The crickety sounds of the night insects... Form a deep combination with my sad heart beat to make a song.... I listen carefully cleanly to the magical sensation.... The clouds at night are so touchy....

Silence my other friend visits when it is time... They all told me to love... But no one told me what to love.... I love my self with the ego of a bully and a self-esteem of a wrestler.... Feel like a pipe wrench.... Strongly put to over turn tight nuts.... I write a song for my heart....

My head?? Is momentously detached from reasoning.... I got tired of seeing same people... Is like I'm a cartoon character in a boring drawing book...That's why they fear me maybe because the alphabets in my name... Betrayed me....


I swear I'll stop lying to myself one day... But it's still 2am and my heart like my stomach and head it is empty.... Trying to fill this hollow space.... Find the satisfaction that only comes like ecstasy.... Once every night....


©Heart_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

GILBERTO EXPOSES HIS WOMAN



PRESTON:


Gilberto finally exposes  his woman to the public.
He had been hiding her security purpose...

Unconfirmed reports of her radical disappearance sporadically  buzzed through social media before calls were made to his fiancee who at the time couldn't  pick her phone to confirm the allegations. Assumption was that, he  had earlier learnt of her demise, that she wasn't strong enough to bare the news. He grew wearily weak, that even her phone became brittle for touch.

Days went by, he held pieces of the minced meat at sight. They were supple; soft, mixed with blood and crushed bones. He was numb and couldn't feel anything yet he  wondered how was it that I got cold? How was it that a body so treasured, features so succinct, could become no more in a split of seconds before you even realize that you're gone. That you've left everything behind.

The first thing they did was to send condolence messages to his social media pages. REST IN PEACE. Those who never knew Her saw her pictures, they would ask, such a young soul. What happened? Those who knew her, told of who she was.   Who she never became.
says;
'"How was it that I could become a victim of my own actions? That I heeded for help in the forests of solitude as I spoke in soliloquies, where could I have gone wrong to desert a world that I held in contempt?", this is the last statement her from him.

"Yet her face punched through my cavity, it made me want to breathe again, but how could I do so if my flesh got minced?  I wasn't just dead but dead inside. How could it be that I gave up on everything I ever knew; the good music; jazz as we danced and sipped coffee; good books, my fiancée, wealth and pride," he said

They never asked what came of him. Instead they were caught up in the realms of their own griefs.

 "My fiancée lost hope  possibly have done to drive me so fast without brakes that I got crashed? That whence I told her she meant my world, did I not have thoughts of leaving so soon? Uncontrollably she "whined"  not with loathe but of feelings
And I was broken. I became a master of my own descriptions. And tales could be told generation after generation of a writer who lived by the pen and died by the pen. A writer who crushed his bones and laid bare his flesh collated with blood on paper. That his pieces bled as they tore bitterness limbs by limbs. That sadness and hues of melancholic rythm came gushing from darkest of pits onto him; he held them and castrated them. Only at the time that he needed just one person to hold his world whence it shredded to pieces he couldn't find one. Till he gave up and left behind a vacuum. This piece bares his last pieces." he declared...

and that my frens, is how Gilberto  finally decided to  expose his woman to the public.


.

Monday, 7 August 2017

NEATH THY MOUNTAINS

PRESTON:


There are those mountains.
Tall, huge mountains,
With pumis rocks underlying their surface,
Steep slopes,
Thawing winds and thick humidity,
Fog, mists brew,
Volcanoes overly extinct.


There are those mountains,
Beneath lies a hill,
Small scrubs and few plants,
Monkeys and wild fruits,
Down the slope;
Mass wasting of debris,
Pebbles settles gently.

There are those mountains,
Stream of water, fresh flows beneath,
Trees, forests clusters within,
Snakes innocently creep,
Birds chirping in the atmosphere,
We made home here,
Neatly fenced with umbrella trees.


There are those mountains,
From the road you can set a stare,
A house desolately stand erect,
An old woman slowly gathers wood,
Cocks, hens, in their pens,
Dogs in their kennels,
Car packed on the road,
Home at last I am,
Neath the mountain hills.

©Heart_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Sunday, 6 August 2017

BURY ALL.

PRESTON :



Shaggy hair, cup of coffee, a book and dreams.... You didn't hope to find Superman in me.... The days you said I was everything..The days you wished I was nothing...All I did was sit down on my bedroom floor and my wounds nursing.... I didn't have the chest to shout at you... Neither the power to return your blows.... But deep inside me it was your name I was cursing....It broke me... When you wanted fish and rice when you just left enough for greens and maize meal.....

What did I do wrong... For you to hate me.... What line did I cross at just 5... To make me what you did.... They told me you are gone now.... Accept and move on.... I will forgive you for battering my mother.... I will forgive you for scolding me.... And even chopping her legs off....You were the man of the house right??

I will not blame your actions... You staggered and lost your job... A breadwinner who lost the bread....A father figure who wasn't so fatherly....A man who wasn't so manly....A dream chaser who fed on nightmares... They told me to write your eulogy... They said I was the first born daughter...I've lived with you for 15years I should know slot about my father.... My heart sank.... Mind frooze eyes popped... Hate rage and whims of vengeance escalated.... I wrote two words.... Only two words.... "Not his"....

I swear father... I took me all I had... Everything I had.... To write that.... As I wrote I saw you naked body.... Moving in forbidden ways along my body.... I saw my legs fly apart as you pushed them mercilessly as if I wasn't your blood.... I saw the devil tearing my growing flower, disassembling the flowery petals.... One after the other... I saw red flaming eyes that commanded my clothes off.....I saw a father who took away my innocence.....

At your burial ceremony.... They gave me gift and said all the sorries they could.... I too hated most of their hypocritical faces.... Most of them knew this.... I didn't send flowers to your grave... I wrote just 2 poems... All that you did... And all I wanted you to do.... They said forgive him...


I forgave you Father... But I will never forgive you for snatching my innocence....And when courage comes... I'll burn your graveyard.... Shaggy hair, short skirts and a nerdy eye lens.... I let you rest in pieces.....


©Hurt_surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Saturday, 5 August 2017

THE DEPART

PRESTON :

Whence the train is about to depart you realize the value of thy existence of your other half. You wish you had more time to spend. Even the good moments ain't just enough. You wish there was no train. No terminal. Just a highway of streets laced with lights for the two of you to walk along holding hands. You wish that there's more to life that you could've done. To make up for the moments you weren't around. You curse yourself for ever being preoccupied. For ever not being there to know. To quench their thirst. To talk. To confront. To provide solution. What did you do to show love?


Time beacons as distance elongates. You thought you were indestructible yet you became addicted. You now watch as your drug sail through the ocean tides. Waves by waves slowly drifting. You just lost her when you just had her. Maybe you could've done things different. Refrain entirely from it. Or be mature and act the adult, not a whining little boy. The promise of tomorrow seem too elusive from your grip. You don't know what to feel.

You remember the conversations. The laughter. The rush. The touch. The look in your eyes when nothing made sense but you did. You wanna turn back time, but this is fate. If time could stand still, you'll still let her know that you love her.

You remember those little times she told you it hurt to miss you. You didn't quite understand. But now you do. It hurts to watch the train leave whence there's nothing you can do. A phone call doesn't help. Texts doesn't do much. For you've been here before, you know how it goes. So you sob on your bed, figuring what text to send.  Your friends asks you what's wrong. "A fly has peed in my eyes", you say. There's a train about to depart with your other half, it tores you a part.


A thing about passenger's is that, whence you alight, you are forgotten. Right now there's a train departing. You are obliged to be on it. You sit staring outside the window. Bidding goodbye as my figure diminishes into thin air. I on the outside looking in, been trying to race. The train races fast.

I hope that time race faster than memories to ever forget about me. For one day, we'll be whole again.

©Hurt_Surgeon

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Friday, 4 August 2017

AN AFTER TASTE.

PRESTON:



Something tells me you read my last letter.... Why? I saw the envelope carelessly thrown in your dust bin.. it hurts to still see you are ignoring my efforts... But I won't cry anymore.... I was a victim of a cursed period...I'm not crying.. I'm not cursing your absence.. I'm happy you got my message....

You left an after taste...A hollow space..All my friends and perceived companion hate you... They hate your name and existence. But love I cannot hate you like they do.. no one really knows this more than we do ourselves....

How's is your new lover. But why again did you leave the one you left me for??.Why are you still liking my pics and snaps on social media... Why do you want to make me think that you thinking about me.. love I know the truth..

The past never really leaves us.. I saw you posted our favorite clip...And the snap when we were together... I'm in love with moments nowadays.... How long do you want to go in circles.....

Someone asked me babe....How much love do I have for you..... Love I have no love....I even warn them not to fall in love with me....I don't possess a heart.. I'm stone cold.... Whizzing and oozing regret, vengeance and pain...

Say hello to Jonny...Let him know I'm not yet a human being..... I love you... That's why I wrote you all the letters....Love I sing along all our old time songs....And always remember the phrase "show me a star that doesn't twinkle and I will show you darkness during the day"


©Hurt_surgeon
beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

NOW YOU SEE NOW YOU DON'T.


PRESTON:


I didn't reply your texts... What made you think I would pick your call...The pain shifted love... I don't hate you... Things have changed ever since you left.... Smiles?? Not just bouts of laughter.... Someone truly heard you pray.... You got what you wanted.... I'm happy with out you....

Lonely yes... I didn't write as many poems... I didn't want them to know I missed you..... I started finding other hobbies... Enjoying every drop of rain as it hugs the ground... Enjoying the high sky and the thousands of stars.... Enjoying every bit of nature... Morning sun and the evening sunset....

I lost hope in humanity.... People are dangerous love.... They are cons, canning, fakists, just when you think you got it... Is when they leave....I cried... I wrote in every poem that... I shed tears.... I smiled at the window.... Enjoyed the days winds and breezes....

I'm still alone.... But cautious and very learned.... Please stop texting me... Stop calling I will not talk to you... I hate you... If I had a chance I would burry you.... You see my eyes are flaming....They burn with desire.... You have what you want love... Let me be....

Im pleased with your absence.... I enjoy... My own company.... I haven't replied your text... I hope you understand I will not answer your calls


©Hurt_Surgeon2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.com

NOT A DREAM.



PRESTON:



Forgiveable sins... Let me just slit your throat..Let me count the droplets of blood oozing from from you.... Let me bend your bones into miniature curves that depict our human souls... Let me pain with blues and black... Shades of gray and white touches...

Let me look into your eyes... Let me cause the hypnosis...Make you slay and slaughter your kin... Destroy your brother cause he is named after your mother... Let me Rub your smile away... Hold on don't cry I'm not done yet.....

I am a God...And gods don't feel remorse...We don't cry or laugh...We don't smile or love... So we don't hate or regret... I'll forgive you I promise... That's the lie you live with... Fighting the fight on behalf of your father!

My father fought so will I? Now come closer... Let me cock mg weapon and point it on your face now... I want to see you shiver... Piss your clothing... Suffer distress... Warning beeps of your heart because it's just about to collapse....Now you understand.... I'm deprived of feeling... But I'm filled with despise... I can't look at your faces twice....

Now a brotherly talk... Why kill a son because of the sins of the father...OK let me now slit your wrist... Let's sit down and watch you fade away... Slowly as life escapes you.... Lets talk and laugh....Let's celebrate your death...No let me celebrate your death.... We lack that logic....

Now open your eyes... This is not a dream!

©Hurt_Surgeon2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.com

Friday, 28 July 2017

FORGOTTEN WORLD



PRESTON:



The first time we kissed there was no rainbow neither the feel of butterflies dancing in my stomach. There was no music: nor golden specks of sun rays in the morning as it perched through dew. The beaconing of hope and flicker of desires of what was yet to be, burnt vehemently in our eyes; yet still remained elusive. But the angst,  the blood rush in my veins as our senses heightened, drove us to a distant world. A world broader than ourselves. Where, like waterlily on shores we could float. Lest we forgot to close our eyes.

There was silence.  Nothing new. But the rhythm of our lips as they munched against one another in soft abrassion. The tasteless taste of saliva as they exchanged greetings in a two way traffic along a busy street; Was accompanied  by the natural scent of animals breathing ghastly; the sweat that formed the creases of their beings. Nothing ever came close to the power of sniffed glue till thy moment. The odour of our smell mattered not anymore.  This world, only but temporary, heeded better promises than begging for change along the streets.

Vehicles hooted. Mates, caught up in brawls over money, drugs,  or somebody took more than he ought to; more than once hurled bitter words against themselves. At night, the chaotic streets tend to be calm and kind, but not to my kind. In darkness We awoke as we keep tabs on the streets. Always out to make livelihood from the lives of the unkinds who carelessly become our prey. Patrol officers always on the watch,  they consider us as lost course. The masses distaste my kind. Enmity exists between my kind and the police. Shots frequently ricochets. Two days ago a stray bullet maimed One of us,  an eight year old boy. They called the press saying it was "robbery with violence, the authority had to act quick". Shame. We are the infidels.

In chaos such as this, we find peace and happiness in our ownselves; however infinitesimal. Here, lies my crib,  my space.  No furniture but just piles of rags which plays the part of a bed. It's dark. Needles for administering narcotics nakedly punctuates the floor. Here we lie. Assuming it's the perfect place to be.  Oblivious to the sounds of cockroaches and rats in a hit and run on empty cans of whisky. There's silence not anymore.  Her long dark nails embeds my back; scratching my skin, peeling off layers of my epidermis. My fingers braze her unkempt hair.

The first time we kissed we were high on glue; in our precipices it made us strong, made us who we are, to break the chains of hunger and forget of the outside world. We knew no better when to stop nor what   next. Duty was calling; I had to pull myself from her and be on the watch as others slept. This is my home. Dark, saddened with melancholic hues. This is a forgotten world where those who dwell survive. Not everyone thrives.

©Heart_Surgeon2017

SIDE SHOW.





PRESTON:


It was all for show.... I hope you are not the one who sent your best friend...The kisses, hugs, holding hands even the tears..It was all for show... I  hated you...

I can't continue living like this... Constantly deceiving myself.... Continuously  assuring myself I'm strong... I like your pictures by the way they look adorable... I wish I can touch that skin again....

I wish my lips would land on your lips...Make entangled shapes with our hands... Hug you... Remember when we tried to break the world record of the longest hug??..Count stars together.... Dream about twins...It was all a lie...

I toss in my bed.. infinite turns wiping.. Wailing like a widow... Occasionally looking through my window...I wish the sun rays were arrows and they shoot through my chest....I wish the wind carried some poison... So that I could bypass all this pain in my chest area....

I hear...You are now "happy" with another..But why did you leave the one you left me for???...I hear you too drink... You've finally found a home in drinking dens..... You are lucky... Lucky in all aspects love.. you still have specs in your chest area....

I see little pretty girls... Joking and playing on my sight.. I get nauseated....I hate the sight of beauty.. I hate the sight of girls.... Don't hate me when I say... It was all a side show....

Tell your best friend I'm not interested...It was all a side show.... Dead end

©Hurt_Surgeon 2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com

MOTHER NOT MUMIAS.



PRESTON:


I know most of you saw me yesterday.... Ooh I forgot.. this is my mother..This beautiful face you see here is my mother... She is the rightful owner of me entirely body and soul...

But if you didn't see her... I will describe her...Along time ago before..I was born my father described her with the words of Shakespeare...She was a Star from the sky...And today she still sparkles and twinkles...

But today I tell you... Her now old hands with golden touch is angelic..Her diamond smile with perfect sets of white teeth... Her dark face... With wrinkles that's tell stories as deep as the night... She has a crown....

She is a queen of kings... The mother to the greatest poet....I tell you she is the reservoir of all my words...I tell you she is m god on earth...If you see her... You will know it's her...From the sharp fashion forward Swahili kitenge she wears.... Her curios ear rings and of course her sashy walk....

She is my mother... Right now she has a slow pace... Caused by advanced age.. but I can't forget to locate the beauty in her face...

She laughs alot.. a lot more than her own son..She is the origin of all my jokes and comical lifestyle...She is the source of my brain.. and of course my resilience and patience...

She has taught me everything medical school can't teach me... That's why I can't follow the world and just celebrate her once a year....I celebrate her.. today yesterday and even on the day of my death... Because she the daughter of this soil is my mother...

©Hurt_Surgeon2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.com

Monday, 24 July 2017

TAKE HER UNFORGETABLE



PRESTON:


Face to face,
He stands here looking at me,
Those eyes...calm blue yet flaring,
Clearly he's smoldering eyes reflects his anger,
His veins popping sends a series of fear,
His bewildered state of confusion and anger is now clear,
Tension amidst his family,
Afraid of whatever is bound to happen.....
If the worst is the best
I bet I'm ready for it to happen.

A sudden rush goes through..but now it's best to stay calm,
How my body betrays me as thin trickle of sweat rolls,
Incoherent words he utters,
My efforts in vain,
I can't comprehend.
A flash of a second I'm in my world,
Building my life,one that I'm yet to have.
Then this darkness...I don't understand,
I'm okay,but I'm being drawn to gravity,
My system is failing.

I feel guilt,
This military of a man knocked me down....
And I can't do nothing,
Then she comes
A deep argument
The worst is yet to happen.....
Screams,wails,curses,pleas....
She swears to see the other side,
At least escape miseries of her father,
Lose love for another,
He's confused like I am.

We both haven't seen this other side of her,
Funny....we both on our knees,
Side by side....
This is madness....

I can't clearly recall how we convinced her,

Sobs and prayers
Finally...
Maybe he realised the worth of a happy daughter.

"Yes.....marry my daughter.keep her happy."

He walks out in confusion,
From misery to victory,
I applaud myself,
I am marrying in a lions den,
Finally.

©Hurt_Surgeon


beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY!!!

PRESTON:


I never thought I'd write about myself in past tense or present tense, if it never meant writing my memoir.

One day you're this little kid with the prettiest smile; living in a big house; your mom and dad still in love like they met yesterday.
So they buy you a bicycle; for its the right thing to desire when you're young. To have things that other kids only dream of.
Then one day you ride on the wrong lane; and the driver of a vehicle, with a stick of cigarette dancing on his lips; runs over you. As fickle, as tiny, as young as you are; pieces of you embed on the metallic ride you own.

Or rather you're this guy resting with a diary; sitting on a large rock basking in the sun rays. For its the right thing to do whence it has rained in the afternoon, and the cascades of sun rays beams from the curtails of the clouds. The rainbow of it, is amusingly beautiful. Till, a dark cloud pastes itself on the sight of the sun. That's when dark days begin. You're left asking yourself, "why me, Lord?"

Ghosts, demons, bad things; the past creeps beneath the ground I walk. With a snap they tore me a part expeditiously. Life weighs me down; when everyone thinks that there's some beauty in having hope; that there's faith in believing; everyone expects me to be strong when they got no idea what it feels like for a mother to carry the pieces of her son's meat with bare hands; blood drips. Smile fades. Dirges sung.

More than once I have monologues. Asking my inner self, "hey self, are you alive inside?"
They expect me to forget; to move on; This electric train has no terminal. It races like speed-bikes; jumping is suicidal. Or that I might tempt. They expect me to enjoy life; to live by the light and blossom from a flower into a fruit. But my shade is a lot darker. What am I to live for when I'm dead inside?

You are still young alright. But life has given you maturity when you never heed for it. Silence depression makes you tarnish, like wooden roof coated with dust, cobwebs hang on its emblem; such you are. You're lot more stronger than you look. So I gathered the tinniest of courage left, packed it in my bag and opted for a French leave.

We all have suffered losses; even the tiny bits whence you watch your favorite hen get slaughtered. Remorseful, yet you delve in its soup. But my loss is far much great; I try to find solutions but it lies in ending thy existence. I search for answers, but Kendrick reminds me its human nature to search for answers even whence there's none.

So here I am. Breaking loose; growing numb to a life that was promised to be abundantly beautiful. Here I am giving up, ending my existence. There you are, wishing that I stay alive.
Too late; just dead inside.

©Heart_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Saturday, 22 July 2017

LIFE BEYOND AUGUST 8TH.




PRESTON;


So we far apart... With hearts close together...United by the dents make in our democracy.... United by poverty, lies and suffering...So we far apart... As we Lord our Lord's.... The high and mighty... That constantly insult and spit on us... I talk about this two culprit.....

I am ready to be jailed... Die for the right course... Iam not aspiring to be a politician... I'm not even WhatsApp group admin....

Mr president. Forget your bullet proof car.. and office window panes... With cooks guards and vallets at your disposal...I'm sure after mentioning your tribe and what you stand for... Then a myriad of voters will be woed by your eloquence....

Some will follow you because they believe you are there future... But you spit on us... I'm sorry but the 10 million votes you are screaming about is just but a dream....I and a million others have decided we shall not vote... We shall not if in your rallies you will exchange insults and bravado....Speak as a Warlord and beat your chest corroding our perception... Lying that you have crafted work manship... A good leader leads by example... And tonight your junior insulted us...

Why do you want my vote if you call me semi-illiterate?

Former prime minister.

Your name alone creates turbulence to the whole east Africa... I'm done praising... I wonder what cohesion you purport...When even in your door step is infiltrated with chaos... I will not repeat myself... When all I've said about the latter is replicated in you...Im afraid but the 10mill votes you aspire... Is now a night mare... Million voters and I have decided we shall not vote... We shall not vote.. if on the 9 of August we shall travel back to our rural dynasties...We know... We know that voting is our Constitutional right... But we shall not exercise this right if we shall infringe the right to life of others...We know... We know you possess diplomatic passport... And you can flee without a trace...

We shall not vote... We shall not vote if we cannot comfortably mention our surnames and not be pointed to a certain political cohort....

I said I am ready to be jailed... Shot because... In my country justice is served with bullets...

My countries men.

Let's stay together as one.. or perish together as fools... They are the same persons that feasted chicken and fries... While watching our asses butchering one another on TV....Open your eyes... Education is not about the paperwork but enactment of policies...

I will not trend today because it's not a love story...Or a heart story....
Peace


Hurt_Surgeon2017
*1000 words*


beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

SMOOTH AF






PRESTON:



She is my muse....She is my tight fit suit... The leather seat in my mansion.... She makes drives me crazy like money does to the poor.....Poor introduction right?

I'll start by making a promise ...She shall be loved in all the beautiful ways... She shall be loved in full, she deserves more than just half love, games, pain and heart breaks....

Her beautiful cheeks shall receive countless kisses...eyes covered with infinite beauty..Heart sunken in innate affection because from now on she is a queen...

A queen with a golden crown, heavily fortified with gems, diamonds and all the beautiful precious stones...If you see here then I warn you... If you see her you will be melted.... She has uniquely circular eyes, beautifully painted in black and white...

Her face Curved perfectly to precision....Teeth white..Nose in perfect position....

Her long neck...That sits on her majestic shoulders....Her soft and bumpy chest area... Her flat tummy.. thighs, hips and legs... Complemented by the deep base color...
Beautiful in all utterly amazing and I love her......

She should be scared... Because all this love will be poured till chicken come home to roast....She should be scared....She should be scared that I will love her...Till I turn in my grave...

And if she is reading this like I know she is....Then she will know that one king said " ilove you "

©Hurt_surgeon2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

CITY LIFE👻




PRESTON:


I'd love to live in the city.... Infact the middle of the city... I want to know the feeling described by my peers... I want to board the city bus... And falcon... The city jewel... I want to see the TV personalities sipping coffee at the near by restaurant... I want to see the city "curse" as described by my grandma... Who once worked there.....

Then I will live in the ghetto... A faceless environment with human being with human souls... People united by oppression and suffering... I will live next to the railway line where I hear they have toilets... Then eat the roadside chips and roasted intestines...Yes... Then live next to the sewer system... Where I hear it's the only place you can grow foods.....

Maybe later I will move to the suburbs where my children will go to private schools... Eat clean organic food... But still board a bus or drive my middle end car... Low fuel consumption... I'll be able to dine in restaurants and maybe buy chips and chicken for lunch.... Here in the village potatoes are strictly for soup and chicken are pets.....

Then later I'll buy a piece of land somewhere in the landscape... Where all the Barron's and drug dealers, thieves and politicians, cartels and business people dwell.... Her they say lives human souls with devil's hearts... These are the people that kill for money... Determine the city's economy... People with venom running in there blood... Here I will buy a high end motor vehicle... Maybe a jeep or a Benz... Have a fuel depot at my place... Have two or more workers and my children will be schooling abroad... There medical cover and life cover will be international insurance companies....

Here I will fly from time to time... Have a private office in Ghana or Lesotho... With my command station being my house....

I will experience little or no traffic jams... No midlife crises...

And when I grow older I will want to die... The city will be my home now... But my people will find a place to sink me next to my father... Somewhere in the heart of my village...

But first... I'll have to live in the city... Enjoy the shitty trouble of muck and lack of water.... Get stuck in traffic jams for hours... Cry about transport fare hikes during the rainy season....

Then tell my story back in my village....

But first things first... I want to live in the city

©Hurt_Surgeon2017™


beblogpreston.blogspot.com

Thursday, 20 July 2017

DAYS LIKE THIS.!




PRESTON. ;

In my calendar... There are the following days... Yesterday, today, tomorrow and days like this....

Days like this are days that the sun doesn't shine bright enough, and the nights not dark enough....Days like this are days that the universe isn't warm enough and the kitchen fire not hot enough....

How do you claim you love me... But you don't know I'm battling with sleepless nights.... It's not the pain of past relationships that tear my soul.... No it's the pain of human existence.... If the religious would allow me to be blasphemous... Then if I were a god... Maybe I would have sucked half of the world's population off life......

It's in days like this that... You can't fully contract a statement with the words I,love and you to constitute a meaningful outcome....It's in days like this that you stay online but you can't reply messages... Cancel plans... And maybe hibernate....

Days that if it is snowing... You freeze deep down your soul.... Days like this... You hate those that put up a smile all day.. it's days like this... Where the bed isn't a refuge.... Sleep doesn't take away your weary.... And eyes look sleepy even at midday....

It's days like this where.... I form a story....

©Hurt_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Wednesday, 28 June 2017

SÊÑD.🔙





PRESTON:

Your message is awesome...Just reminded me of the days of my life... But boo check your receipient....Auto correct no! ... That message is not mine... How I know...Is simple your description fits a Greece god...Not a dead human soul....

You say you love me.... But love is such a deep word I prefer you like me....It's easier to change preference than commitment....How do I know...It's because you said... I love my glowing soul.... Listen sweetheart... My soul is black and devoid of light....

It's because you said my eyes twinkle.... Wrong choice of words baby...My eyes are flamming furnace....The resemblance of the utmost punisher....My lips are tender...And skin so soft... It's because you said my heart is light... And you wanted to penetrate....

Listen cremebell...My heart is heavy....It's been fed with everything wrong and lies from my closest associates....It's is hard as stone and completely impermeable... It's because you said my heart is spotless and entire.... I hate hyperbole and complete exaggeration....My heart is in shambles and filled with scars....

Please check your receptient..You said I'm filled with energy...I'm sorry lovely one but thats not me... I I'm tired... Sickened by the presence of human souls....I am the devil's agent... Straight from the guillotine department in the underworld...

You hailed praises on the things you wish to see in my life.... Pretending to overlook my flaws.... Sorry but everyone who came before you.... Said everything you are saying....You praise too much...That's how I know it's not me...

Deep inside....ill let you know why.... I'm not afraid of falling in love love... I am in love with a thousand plus....I'm filled with love...But I'm really sorry I forgot how to love humans....I am afraid of investing my time to people.... It kills to love and not being loved.....

Send back this message to the owner...honeypie..... Because this is not me....You say I'm warm....But I don't feel it....I am as cold...As the abyss of the dead... This is not me.... Your message is too yellow...With blue and purple.... Touches with red and orange.... But I am just black and white...


©Hurt_Surgeon2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke

Tuesday, 27 June 2017

I STILL LOVE YOU.

PRËSTÖN:






I've been lied to🐰... Feelings played with for too long that I can't for a sentence with the words I love you...I sit obnoxiously next to my window... Keenly but absent mindedly looking at a far... Lord what sin did I commit...Those that I love just find ways to destroy me.... I don't need drugs... Everything I love is destructive to me.....

I miss you....I wish I can have just one more chance to hug you...You see when you left we didn't even have time to argue... Listen I miss all what we did together... This are the words crafted deep from the floors of my soul...this are the words tangled... Closed... Locked deep within the darkest corners of my heart....

I wish I could hate you... I wish I can hate you....I wish I can curse you... I'm a premium expedition of the words heart break... I'm a mess with out you...

I want to tell you...I have found solace in bars and clubs...Short lived happiness in strippers blood and booze....I want to tell you of my nightmares... My new bestie knows you in a thousand different ways... But none of this ways please him... But none of my business... It's not about how many passers-by we please... We didn't even please ourselves....

I see birds flying in twos I hate... I hate the fact they have a concrete happiness from mere flight... Concrete love... Maybe that's why it's said love for the birds...

I'm in a dilemma.... Not knowing if I should take poison or just hung my self.... But any step I take.... know that I can't form a meaningful statement with the words I love you in it...

Hurt_Surgeon2017™


beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke 

Sunday, 11 June 2017

PHOTO GALLERY.


PRESTON:



It was awesome.... It was awesome I tell you.... You should have seen how she looked in that dress and make up.... Life filled with smile... Wrapped up with a juicy stride..... Short skirt...Pale blue lining... Occasionally she turned and greeted the night sky... She was drunk... Beautifully drunk....

I can't remember well how I got home with her... But if I trace.... One of us was on the driver's seat....Have you ever been with someone and time just froze... Nothing you do seems to worry you.... Everything is perfect... From the fight, the cute battles that makes you love more.... "To switch off the lights babe.... I did it yesterday"....

I wish I was recording this moment.. I would re-live them even at her absence.... Catastrophe...Pain... Missing.. Scrolling down slowly my camera photos... It was her birthday... She had cream all over her face...I saw the cake...... It had both our names on it... Like we were twins...see.. I still have good memories....

Tangled in my bedroom chair...Check me playing chess solo.... Looking deep into my poison bottle... Two more drops overdose....My drink fizzling...I know your heart beat is rising.... Let me tell you why I'm about to die....

It's two months now... And the last text message I got from any human soul was...

"Hey babe, I love the moments but when morning comes...And the bird chirps...The poets lover...Now has the other....I regret being so ridden...But I hope when night comes... You will know... About our infection"

And the last sip of my poison tainted liquor..Sunk into my throat...

©Hurtsurgeon 2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke 

Friday, 9 June 2017

SECRET.


PRESTON :




Let me tell you something.... Let me tell you a secret.... Let me tell you this words in their order of alignment.... Motivated from my dead, dying, rotten dark soul....Words crafted from my broken smelly bones.....

Let me tell you a something....No Infact let me write you something...So when I'm gone you will hold on to.... Something that will make you smile and sob in equal measures.... Something intense.... Strong like the drug heroine.... Let me tell you....

Gather your friends too...Gather your enemies too....We need all energies....Both positive and negative.... Family should be close.... They are the protogen....Come closer now.... Look at their faces....See them all crying and laughing.... Sobbing and smiling...Others wishing.....Now come even closer..... Smell my breath....

This is the story told from beneath.... This is the last time you will see such a crowd....No such an applaud...This is it.... Home is in the next block.... Block your ears and eyes for all you see and hear...Are trickling barrels of false circularization....

That is the secret... Control your soul... And the earth will bow down to you....

©Hurtsurgeon2017
*Secret*



beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke 

Tuesday, 6 June 2017

WHISPER


PRESTON :




Today in a bus... I made my final decision....This is the last love letter I'll ever write to anyone....Let my love cry foul....But I hope one day she will understand....Let her call me names....Say how much I don't love her....Maybe find ways to lie to me about her new partner....They all leave me this way....

Even those that curve me....Craft me into moulds of perfect patterns....Those that said....They will stick with me till infinity.....It's funny how they forget their promises....

I miss her....But I will never let her know.... This is supposed to remain with me...I'll cry hate toss and turn....Wish like I am used to.... Like her pictures on social media.....Make they feel special.....

Remember when I described the kind of girls that I attract..... Those cheating psychopaths, that ruin my life because I'm obviously retarded.... Remember when I wrote a love letter and posted on Facebook??? When my life seemed grim...But still had a chance to.....

She'll never see me online....Never see me text or call.... I guess that is the "love" in 21century....I was lonely like ever.... Cruising past the alps and the escapement....Home was too far....And my heart was dying....

Yes I miss you....I know it's obvious you will read this.....You said you loved my poetry...And today...I sent it to you.....

I'll remind you of the state you found me...And ask.... You've broken my heart...Are you happy now??

♋Hurt surgeon2017
*Whisper*😢😭


beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke 

Wednesday, 31 May 2017

SHARON.

_special dedication to Shazz Abuh_


I don’t know what hits harder,
When my mind reels to her veneer.
My heart or the lower unmentionables?
When I say hello,
She says hello.
When I get on to sugary topics,
She chuckles.
She blushes upon enquiry,
If she’s alone or is there some lucky guy making her happy?
Maybe if I kiss her on Friday,
I’ll get my message across.
I can’t do it today,
Because she isn’t home.
Or tomorrow,
Because I won’t be in town.
Oh the little excuses.
But maybe if I kiss her on Friday,
She will get what I mean,
When I call saying she is all i think about.
Maybe if I kiss her on Friday,
Saturday will find me a complete man.😋😋

*@fashionniche*
🔂Shazz_Abuh.

🔝beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke

FIGHTER.

PRESTON:

I wasn't born as a writer.... This is just the sequence of thought that I missed to tell you last night.... I wasn't born with insomnia... This is what happens when love fails... You find yourself up at 2am trying to find an exit from your thought.... Wishing that life was a bit Fair.... Why did you promise whilst you can't deliver.....

I wish we fought completely that day... Strip me naked... I am willing to cooperate.... Make me wish for you... Yes make me.... I am a lover not a fighter... This phrase is as common... You've heard it right??... But I will no longer love... What's your difference between my past and present?... I failed right... I thought love was a commitment not a feeling....

I'm curly, curved into my bedroom.... Inside the four corners of my blanket... Tears couldn't flow no more.... I can't cry anymore... I lost touch of humanity... Love doesn't make sense anymore.... It's a viral disease contagious.... Maybe I should be in quarantine.....

You knew so well what she did... Trust!!.. What is this blank word you claim... Everything and everyone I trusted and loved shot me on my balls.... What was I thinking.... I knew so well I was relegated to a writer.... Painting trues....In circles of triad and tribulations.... I miss me....

Trying to find... Figure out which of my characters are mine and which are those I created to impress you....But I will not ask... Since here... Iam circumnavigated by the things we both hate... I wish I would have said no that while... This way I would just be the key wordist.... Inspiring hurt-aches from aching hearts....

You've broken my heart love.... Hope you smiling now....I wish I was an archer.... Don't worry love... I will be long dragged to my man cave by morning... When you wake up.. it will all be a new sin.....For the sinner that I am.... Lives to haunt the Lord that I was....

I hope this finds you hugging. If it doesn't... Hug after reading.... It's my first letter of pleasure... Good bye home... Till my eyes comes dry

© 
Hurt_surgeon

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Monday, 29 May 2017

DREAMERS


PRESTON:




This is for the dreamers...Who dare to dream... Slumber of both day and night.... This is for the dreamers.... Who dare to dream about love... Two unseen birds chirping while singing songs of praise... Missing and loving like life is dependent on this....This is for the broken that don't even trust brothers... those that get scared to the whiskers....


Then this is for the players... That they ruin our lives like alcohol and hard drugs....Those that make us see sense in nonsense..... That makes us feel pain.... And appreciate those that don't hurt... Those that dare tickle the Dragon.... Though some can't take the heat....

This is not for sale... This is for the lone and deserted.... The weak and destroyed.. those that even church don't heal their souls.... Those that are sick of the light... And sunshine.... Those that are devoid of trust....

Hurt Surgeon

beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke 

Sunday, 21 May 2017

MOTHER°¬



PRESTON.. :


Dear mother I write to you... With my eyes full of tears...My soul numbed and heart cold as ice.... I know I promised to bring home my wife and maybe a child.... But I have failed... Forgive me....How is life in Zanzibar.... I hear our shilling has strengthened against the Tanzanian currency that's good news....

Mother... This is an open letter so that the world might sympathise with me...Or maybe teach me something....I am currently sitting in my bed sipping coffee.... Traversing through my head... Thought bomberding themselves in an alphabetical sequence....

Mother.
Everything and everyone I loved here... Has found a way to destroy me.... They have done exactly what they said they will not do... I know you told me men don't cry... But you never said what makes men cry.... I want to teach them...

Mama..
Say hi to Anita... The fourth door neighbour to the left towards the granary.....She might be my pick...If she lacks a suitor...Tell her I'll come driving a Pajero...

Mother..
The first one that I loved.. made me feel special... I wanted to let you know about this but I thought it was so early...  I wanted her to do it all by herself... But mother she left to study in India... Mother she told me to look for someone else because she might take long.... But two months later she was pregnant.... Home...

The second one mama.... She was there all the qualities... She always kept my stomach full... She made thick soup and gave warm water... Mama she was the one I swear... But she like the first one cheated again.... She did everything she said she will not do... I cried... I once contemplated... Suicide...

The third came... Wiped my tears and kissed my soul ... She knew the right way to touch my hand.... Tickle my broken soul... She was mama.... She stayed long enough to be my wife ma'....
I swear she was great... But ma' she too had the city girl syndrome and cheated again... This time with my best friend... I found them in my bed... Hamping..... I cried... Ma I cried.....


When the fourth one came... I had lost all hope.... I couldn't trust anyone... She was worse... She lied to me from day one... I was the boy among men... That fed from her water hole... Mama she has my child now... I'll call her after you...She said they didn't know what they had... But still cheated on me....

Mother..
Then came the fifth one... We haven't met yet... But she sounds great... She hasn't talked about my ex but she talks about hers... She says I'm boo... The love of her life... Ma if she leaves I'll not try this again.... She is miles away but when she comes I'll write to you....She knows my scars from poetry and other open letters.... She is yet to know the surgeon....

Mother.
Please reply my message... I have alot to let you know...

© 2017™

beblogpreston. blogspot. co. ke

Friday, 19 May 2017

TELL ME....°


BY PRESTON:




Tell me.? 
Do we chose the people we fall in love with?Do we chose the people who Melt our hearts....Do we chose the people who we give our hearts.... Those we give the rights to hurt us....Those we give a dagger and million chances to stab....Those that look awesome with flaws in our eyes?

If not why do we chose the time We get hurt... The time we get circled into the deep circumference of pain and torture.....If not why did he stand on the highest floor and dived on the concrete ground.... If not why did she write a poem with her name and sank her soul in the birthtab....?

I will not say my thoughts.... How many times I've attempted suicide.... murder to my own soul...How many times I've constantly wished that you came back.... But she never did....

Tell me

Do people chose the depth or magnitude of the pain they endure.... Or is it the tremendous effects of too much affection.. That came in side by side after the few chocolate dates and rose flower surprise.....? Tell me... Is my heart beating from missing your presence or the pain I enjoy??.

Tell me...Is this feeling foreign or its just another misplaced thought that I have? Tell me...Do we chose the people that hurt us.... Or they choose us?? Double advantage


©HURT SURGEON2017™

*Do we*

beblogpreston.blogspot.com

Tuesday, 16 May 2017

PICTURES

BY PRESTON:


I can't stop smiling and regretting at the smiley pictures we took together... I wish I also took the moments we fought... It would be a black and white explanation of our lives... I loved when you called me silly every time we finished an argument.... I loved the way you hugged me and say it's not yet over... I keep on smiling about the way you begged for me to taste salt in your food... 

I found those pictures you sent me when you were drunk... Not forgetting those when you were sleeping.... The day I crept into our room at midnight and snapped... The pictures that you put clothes in your belly and said you are pregnant... Not forgetting the ones that I took when you fell on the floor.... After slipping on the wet tiles.. I laughed... 

I also found the ones that I took after you burnt you cake.. I smiled stupidly on that... I have never seen anyone so scared in my life... I actually regret why I did not record the voice.... It was funny... But babe... They are just pictures now... I wanted to delete them but I can't....

Iam broken into tears every time I see this pictures... I am tempted to throw my phone and say it's an accident...I want to break my phone screen.. this way I cannot flip through the pictures any more.... I am like a little kid who has dropped his candy... Constantly crying and hoping it will pick itself up.... 

I went to arrange my clothes in my room and found those beautiful matching hoodies.... They reminded me of my first date at the orchestra...  You were so selfish you wore two.....I can't control the tears dropping washing away our memories...

I can't simply imagine what I had.... You just woke up one morning and said good bye... But why?? Why didn't you tell me what you wanted... What was going on... Why you thought I can't be the one... I saw your picture with him too... Both of you looked Adorable I admit.... But at least you could have said good bye with a kiss and hug.... Did you have to cheat your way out....???

Babe I wish I had the power to change past.... I would easily erase all our memories... They say real men don't cry... But I wonder how that is possible if all that goes through my mind is your presence and absence...  All I want and dream of is your warm kiss and tight hugs....All I long is your presence in my kitchen counter asking.... A little more?

I hope this finds you well my love... Remember my bones love more than souls do....

 2017™
*Pictures*

beblogpreston.blogspot.com

WHO IS TO BLAME..!

BY PRESTON




They said that a man that cries at the thought of loosing you.... Truly loves you... But I never cried... Is not to mean I never loved you..... They said the more romantic you are the more she will want to leave... I wasn't romantic.... What made you leave?

Is it the dreams that I shared that scared you... Is it the pains that I spared that threatened you....Is it the link love story... The night we counted stars.... The days we cried together... Tell me my love.... What did I miss to give....

I have no more sleep... My dreams and reality crushing... Clashing... I have a more intensely beautiful reality than my dreams....I can't sleep....I am not ready to lie to my self... I believe you love the other guy.....

I want to kill my existence... I'm not telling you to help me change my mind your opinion is as useless....As the "EA" in tea....I'm not telling for you to feel remorse no... I'm informing... So that when you miss me don't call my mother ...

My goals of dreams of brighter days are dim now... The electrical company has a higher rate charge on electricity..... I miss you... That we agree.... I miss you even when writing this ugly letter....

Sources close to your bedroom says he is never there.... Cold nights...And shuttered dreams...I mourn my heart.....I even can't love food with the intensity that I loved you....

I don't know who to blame.... Is it you or my poetry... Who did other the worst?!! Is it me or my wife to be... I wish you could only wait for just one more day.... But worry not love..... Sleep well... Let the world judge..

©Hurt_surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.co.ke

The Return of the Wild Woman...✍🏽

There comes a moment in a woman’s life when she discovers that the fatigue she feels is not merely physical but spiritual, emotional, ancest...