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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Sunday, 4 September 2016


Look at you!  You can barely tie your laces. I caught you at 3 am last night when I woke to pee  and all you could tell me was, "I'm starving, mahn..." You should write a guide on how to grow fat and not care.' I remember when we were younger, for some reason, mum thought you were sick. You looked like those kids in UNICEF ads; so malnourished! I know it's awful to say; ayeh, it makes me wonder if Africa's the only place with starving folks? Now for some odd reason, you train tracked your way to chubby land. You're a star I tell you, you're a star! Often we look at some of our friends and aren't sure whether they are the cause of their current state. Most times we point fingers and say they didn't see the ditch right before them when they fell into it, and truth is we are wrong. Body structures differ and so do weight preferences. But, I've watched you day and night knit your fat suit, now your telling me you can't fit into your new shirt.
At the break of dawn, you rise in the morn like all you dreamt of was walking through Charlie's chocolate factory. You reach out for the candy bars that you vault some where in your room, scuffle through the polyester shopping bag, only to pick out your favourite snickers bars. Your fingers rub them like smeagol and his precious ring. You then rip them open and deep the whole bar of calories into your hippo mouth, one by one. Then you sleep them off for a few hours and wake up to your kings breakfast. Cassava, chapatti, boiled eggs to stir up your farts, a pair of sausages to wrap in your chapatti, and a mug of thick porridge. The doctor said we should have balanced diet, you've blown the advice out of proportion. You wake up at 11 am, have your brunch meal and then demand your lunch at 1.30 pm. I wonder where your food goes? I mean you're a big vessel and all but what goes down there seems to be going through a bottomless pit. I'm not making fun of you or anything, I'm sure you know this saying, "ebyenaku bisekebwa" (misery is often funny). I'm just pointing out what you fuss to me about.  But what am I supposed to do when after lunch you're asking if there are any snacks in the fridge? Then you go ahead and check it a million times, like you have a lamp some where in your room that you're going to rub and a genie's going to hook you up with a bite. You spend all your money on nothing constructive,  you're a 23 year old man with a senseless mind of a teenager. All you buy yourself is dunkin' donuts and Oreos to deep in milk. I love my Oreos but you don't see me swimming in a pool of them! You have to get yourself together, telling me how you feel isn't going to make the situation better. You have to quit eating dinner like you've never had a meal in your life and snacking up all night. It's outrageous, it truly is.  It's a good thing went shopping yesterday. All those mirrors in the dressing room were a wake up call.  It's best you get your shit together and stop whining about your weight yet you can't change your ways.

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