boyfulani

After hours of  ‘making‘ out with my computer, i shoot blanks.

For some time now, i have wished to court and slip the ‘handcuffs of life into one uv’em. Currently,  in the marital world of  ‘IT‘, i have none to call my own. I have resulted into constant whoring about…banging on any keyboard that lays itself bare…and my gently prodding take care of the rest. There are times when my fingers are itching, edging me out of my skin just to caress a ‘QWERTY’ or ngwati keyboard at midnight, and maaan…i take it out on my notebook.

It’s a sweet release.

Fruits of crazitivity, these are.

Today, blankets are baying for my blood.  Sleep has eluded my eyelids and waking thoughts are ‘trodding’ as Trojan horses over my poor mind. I am torn between the life i want and the life i live in.

Some things no longer make sense, and now, i find sense in senselessness. Maybe Emily Dickinson was right:

MUCH madness is divinest sense

To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness.

’T is the majority In this, as all, prevails.

Assent, and you are sane; Demur,—you ’re straightway dangerous,

And handled with a chain.

So, i walk on, hoping…that the light will shine my way, and i shall find my spot.

Among the stars.