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Self Crisis.

Its bigger than religion.

I have a strong yearning for knowing.

Its like im rolling, this constant turning.

A cursive continuous whirlwind.

Dire says these days Its like I am falling.

I hold my breath like school boy, anxious to exhale.

Maybe we are all like Sisyphus, an unending myth of Absurd realities.

My mother says maybe its better if I come home.

When you dial a number to call a loved one, try to sound less broken than the communication line.

The colour red reminds me of menstruation blood,


Van Gogh,

My room,

These curtains,

The air here,






9th floor,

Elevator doors,

All walls.

Suppose I didn’t go to the talk. Suppose I missed the test. Suppose I forget my paint brushes. Suppose we all just stayed at home and just told the truth about it.

I like the boy from the Orbit. I like meals that make me happy.

The boy from the Orbit buys me happy meals. I like it when I’m happy.

Can I ask you a question?

Do you think its possible to feel two things at once? I mean like your feelings are overlapping.

Sometimes I feel really happy and sad at the same time. How do you feel right now? You’ve been asleep for the past 400 years. The turbulence was extreme this time.

I had to wake you up before 10pm. You know the rules are quite strict here. Sorry.

Im sorry Palesa,

Sorry Londeka,

Sorry Gugu,

Sorry Natalie,

Sorry Thabang.

Im sorry the music is too loud.

Sorry for smoking inside.

Sorry I couldn’t get out of bed.

Sorry the rock is going to roll back down.

If we meet again sometime, remind me of how much I tried, how much I wanted to breath before it all just started floating.







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