Prison kills your spirit so you write to stay alive. It’s a form of virtual escape; let me introduce you to a friend she will be known to you as ‘the girl’. I call your attention to the ‘house on the hill’; hasn’t it always been someone’s dream. This is my home for now.
Just moments ago my escape attempts were foiled when I was called on by Ombugs under instructions from above to track down and recapture a rogue cockerel. Am feeling sad for my beloved safari boots a.k.a sahunya had to go through the rigours of the aforementioned exercise. It should be more aptly renamed ‘track and destroy’; the bird deserves to die! Come supper time, vengeance shall be mine (evil laughter here)
The house on the hill is not all that it’s made to be on TV, rap lyrics and Hollywood movies but dreams are made of these. What would you do for love? R.I.P Tupac Shakur and long live Makaveli. It’s not so bad; Yang is here with me it could have been worse and that’s selfish on my part. The weather is unkind meaning I don’t like being all alone. Jail is not a place to be at do listen to Busy Signal. You don’t go there out of your own volition unless you are a law abiding citizen (pun intended).
She changes like the weather and if that is a good thing am better off changing the weather. Its warm when she smiles and when it rains it pours. When the rain falls it don’t fall on one mans house alone. I think am getting ‘cryptic’. Sorry about that but I can’t bring myself to relay what happens more concisely and with clarity. This house on the hill is a government house and its off the perfect location by twelve hours.
The road to here wasn’t so smooth reaching the destination not that fulfilling. The scenery is most undeniably beautiful. I must finally admit that am truly confused. I thought it was her I really wanted why sometimes do I wish she would leave me alone? She gets me tongue tied when its this warm and i forget we are holding hands. The way she lay her head on my shoulder; I knew it was wrong, it sounds like a song. Why can’t we just be friends; you are ruining my calm. I’ll try harder next time
I hate this (government) house on the hill you could never own for it would then be a corruption of all that’s pure and true. Look at my tortured thoughts, is this not a prison to you. Tell me you haven’t the slightest idea of what I am intimating. It wont matter anyway I will be dead. I die every day.
Always this oppressive weather when am missing you