Walking Hands

The longer you live the more mistakes you make and eventually, if you’re not careful they catch up with you.

I wish the younger me from a few hours ago had an epiphany of this nature. Life has a way of sucking out all the joy from you and at what cost? Your happiness? Happiness is overrated nowadays. Today of all days I sat wondering how best I can put my hands to use but, with every stroke on the keyboard all I saw was blood. Have you ever seen anything as excited as blood escaping from a wound?

I can never put a name to this state. I sometimes feel like I’m coasting through the day almost waiting for something supernatural to jump-start myself away from this cycle. I felt the same way even before I came back to my homeland (the land of the dead). It is what you make it; it is dead to me irregardless of what you make of it with your own 2 cents. We are all just undertakers now hustling to revive the seed planted in a failed state.

The patriot in me would have visions of youth uprisings and mobilizing against those that treat our land like a stokvel. Surely I can’t be the only one who feels this way. But, then again, how about the millions that want change and aren’t ready to die for it. That has always been my conclusion, that if you want something then you have to be prepared to lose everything to get it…even yourself?

I mentioned blood earlier. There will be lots of it. So much of it that these walking hands will leave a print so vivid within mankind that it reverberates across all generations. They’ll teach their kids about us or maybe they’ll put us under ‘myth and taboo’; depends on what spectrum of man is in power.

I’m starting to not be afraid and that alone scares me. I question myself and neglect the idea of rest or sleep as punishment for evil thoughts. Yes, I have evil thoughts like what certain evil things could feel like. My mind races so much; filling and emptying itself of nonsensical ideas and feelings. Some feelings I blow out into my hands, typing and writing; rapidly trying to keep up with rhythm and rhymes connected through anecdotes within anecdotes. Sometimes it’s just a memory, sometimes I want it so hard to not become reality. A week has ended and another is born right before our eyes; that’s some deep shit, unfortunately, we take it for granted.

In the end it’s just another ordinary Tuesday. I usually use it to flush down unwanted toxins. I’m grateful for this day. Without a Monday, I wouldn’t have a vessel to dump all the dump and for Tuesday to clean it all up…I see why shit gets reused; so that new life may emerge.

Be happy and have a not-so-wonderful Tuesday…😏



Photo Credit: Sam Burriss

2 thoughts on “Walking Hands

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  1. We all undertakers now, ready to bury the seeds of a failed country perhaps they will grow…

    I sometimes sit and exclaim to myself I am too old for this ish… It does that, this country sucking away at our chore aging us, or perhaps hardening us to the violence that is to come.


    Liked by 1 person

    1. It took me a good week just to have access to internet! If this isn’t the markings of failure then what is? We are only getting older and a little less wiser by the day…I swear the one thing I don’t want is violence but, a part of me really doesn’t care anymore; we have danced with the idea of change for far too long…

      Liked by 1 person

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