music monday: bound

Oppression and suppression go hand in hand like friend and foe, bound to me for reasons unknown. My existence is one of redundant constraint and entrapment. Terrorized of peeping eyes, yet desperate to be recognised and distinguished. Like a caged animal in a glass enclosure, utterly at the mercy of its keepers. Completely at liberty to feel the sun kiss its inept skin through that vessel, yet cruelly restricted to experience much else.

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durban skies

He’ll drive me to an obscure spot one night, cryptic and secluded. Desperate to reveal his “secret” place, a barren parking lot fornenst the roaring sea. He’ll take my hand and  navigate a narrow passageway pitifully consumed by verdancy, then skilfully tread along velvety sand where minuscule, adamantine granules dexterously slip between toes.

He’ll pause for a moment and survey the skies above and I’ll watch in awe as he inhales saltine breaths of satisfaction. He’ll lay down a mandala towel then motion for me to join. Without a moment to spare I’ll eagerly follow his lead and gracefully entwine my limbs with his.

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all the single ladies

I did the unthinkable yesterday.

I mentioned to a mother of two that I was enervated. Simply opened up about how exhausted I’d been of late. How the need for an afternoon siesta was becoming increasingly burdensome and how I struggled to find balance juggling different roles.

Of course what was I thinking? Speaking such truths to someone like herself.

Because how could someone like myself experience such feelings of fatigue?

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