And, Doctor, another thing has got me worried

And, Doctor, another thing has got me worried:

I’m not drinking as much as I should…

Distinguished men, and by that honorable term, I mean men who aren’t afraid of whatever shall befall their livers, call it poison. A favourite poison. It kills slowly, in fact so slowly that you actually enjoy its bitterness going down your throat. As a man of little means, my favourite poison is a kinda fifth generation. Street quacks have included it into their gimmicks to persuade idle people to hand them a few pocket change. You’ve seen them, rugged looking with dirty clothes. A glimpse will give you the impression that they just emerged from a hole. Their presence leads to a conclusion; survival.

I crave for the poison, just to get even with that cliché that people seek strength to accept things they can’t change. Frankly, I want the drink to accept that I have accepted to let life runs its course, the actors in it (important somehow) to choose their own stories which no longer shall involve me and I to seek enthrallment from the shreds of my solitude, fix them like a jigsaw, one at a time and until I can get space to write a line of a poem.

At the moment I am the emptiness in every liquor bottle, purposeless and contemptuous. I like it like this, it makes me string my worth from ruins, from discarded memories and dreams and may be even write. May be I can be Kenya’s Charles Dickens. Or may be some else that shall be referred to in future, as colossus in the literary scene, a thing I prefer.

Henceforth, I will be mesmerized by a woman’s ass because it will stimulate my favorite body part. And by favourite I don’t mean the part linked to manpower but my brain. Whenever I shall see a humongous behind, I will automatically think of kilos it weighs and wonder when the government shall announce a tender for the supply of such fine asses. I can begin to think the features; natural, unlinked, smooth and curvy…

I have accepted, most importantly, that my phone shall henceforth be vestigial. I will not bother to bother people’s daughters with text messages and I won’t accept any bother from them too. My second favourite body has to also accept that it has had its fair share of meat. We’ve closed that chapter unless sanctioned by a qualified medical doctor, which is highly unlikely.

And for music, I shall listen like a scholar would. I shall listen for the aesthetics and creativity. I shall listen for timbre, tone, pitch…..I will be a music scholar, bottom line.