It’s time to think, tinker with thoughts about things thicker than blood,
Love, have, had, yet all these things barely describe the issues at hand, mud,
Is the scum I wade through confused, looking for clues as to what is expected of me given the news,
I may want to but a part of me refused, so I continue, nothing old to be renewed, just fresh and new,
Rambling to myself I say “It’ll all be over soon”, yet in truth, I know not when the end shall be nigh, only beginnings seem due
Life has a sick sense of humour, so I dare not tell it to do so to me,
I’m surrounded, crowded out even, by a rumour, then several and inevitably, their effect is a fort seemingly impregnable,
Passion drives me, hatred swerves the car, but the funniest thing about all this is, so does love, the one thing intended to be affable,
All this really looks laughable, but in reality, this world we live in can prove unbearable.
I for one have tasted the bitterness, no degrees should be assigned to it, for none can ever entirely relate to what is not theirs, incomparable
A siren, my train of thought just got derailed,
I shall leave this random piece to rest in peace now,
My e-NK ran out, and my intentions went with them,
All the same, as usual, as always, implicitly and explicitly…
Yours in perpetuity,
Evans Mbora Campbell.