Sense4MyThots

I understand this hunger for humanity to achieve greatness. It compells us  to live a new life, that of an Alister Crowley type of wickedness. All to feed this great Beast. To never roar like the thunder, to never walk your Road to Santiago. I have lived in my mind for far to long to have let society tell me what is and what isn't. I left my right hand to write out scriptures of what is right and what is left. No you cannot control my desires, my dopamine levels, I do not breathe to satisfy your hunger. We all have our tales and testimonials. Mine is the story of an innocent survivor, I pressed play on the music of the world, which in turn granted me answers sung by the Universe in tongues that I could never interpret. Came back with wounded eardrums due to the immense intensity of the message. No one is ever given choice, kids grow too fast and so did I. Yet I still laugh like a baby during Peek-a-boo. Always in search for answers, always asking the wrong question. Why me? W...

Remember when we were teens?  When we were madly in love?  When we thought every love song was ours?  I mean, when we could chit chat for hours?  Innocent. Young. Pure. We were clueless. Dumb, ignorant and stubborn. I miss that you  Or is it just me?  I mean before it was all about the sex and status. I mean before the ' depressions ',  headaches  &  love triangles ? Before the side dishes, main chicks and so on and on. I mean before you knew you were beautiful? Before the older boys started noticing? I miss that you! Can we like... Go back for a minute? Just re-live it for a minute?  [by. Sive Njana]

Her bronze skin radiating in the soft rays coming from the sunset kissing her skin. Her brown eyes illuminating in the subtle orange, pink and red hues. Her aura playfully lingering in the air hugging her silhouette. Breathtaking in her purest self:  Clothed by her imperfections, Scarred by experience, Shaped & designed by God. A Deity. A Reflection. Me. This is the woman I have become. By: Unako Mjekula

Words chosen with care. Written with flare.  Carrying heavy emotions hoping we share. Why you?  Why you?  It's not fair or clear. I'm not even a writer but i'll write to you.  I'll start over and over, Until I use my best hand-writing. No lies... No clichés...  These are;  Emotions on paper, Heartbeats trapped in echo, Words lost in sound, Motions disabled in motion, Words with just meaning. Words with just feeling. Love letter to a stranger. Love letter to a stranger.  Love letter to a stranger.  XOXO . I hope you write back to this stranger. [by. Sive Njana]

Hearts & souls are in sync  Thoughts rushing in its so hard to think  Moods brightened by that drink. Another love story for the moon to witness  The night's deceiving ..  This love I'm receiving & believing  A moment in time disguised as a moment of truth ... It couldn't be true cause it felt like forever Forever in a moment? Love in a moment? That's Cupid's torment Does love taunt? Or haunt? I don't know but I'm caught up. Caught up in a moment with you. Caught up in a moment with you. [by. Sive Njana]  

Painted Picture On The Wall. Roaches partyin on the floor. Scavenging for giant crumbles. The Tv plays , demanding more of my time. Bathroom window's open. A gast of wind sneaks in, Causing the door to welcome & close ghosts inside. Mumbles & distant whispers from neighbours. My sofa swallows me deep, exhausted by my weight. Cup of coffee , cold & tasteless next to me With something drowin' inside of it. Lost in my mental, Thoughts mate with memories giving birth to scenes of a movie that only plays in my head. Smoke, after smoke... I swear, the only good thing about today I got enough smokes to last me through the day. I just hope it rains to complete a good day. I've always loved all the odd things in this life, like; Rain, Eyes, Silence, Trains, Darkness. My world as little as is, spins in circles. With weak miserable attempts to break free from these mental shackles. I tried, I've lived, Now I am Dying, Lying, Crying, Can...

She dropped her head on the desk in exhaustion. Her chest landed on top of the empty page, Hoping that the reverberations of her heartbeat would write her heart's confessions.  She was blind to words that described how she felt So maybe this was her way of writing in Braille. And in doing so,  Perhaps someone blind to her exterior could read what her heart wrote And touch parts of her soul that don't look tangible to the naked eye. And maybe that would make her feel better: To know that she's not alone . By: | Unako Mjekula |