₦airaland Forum

Switup:
Out! Out!! Out u winch!!!

Switup:
So I'm supposed to just pick up my bag and leave for Abuja? Just like that? Like it was just the next junction in my street i should be at? At the snape of a finger?

But really this Abuja trip we are talking about would take me averagely above 10hours to get there.

It took me two days to get myself prepared for the big journey day. (You know i needed to sort for money, a good place to pass the night and well, make all enquiries about this place i would be travelling to).

On the eve of the D-day, i logged on to the official NYSC website and this was what i saw, ' This Website is Officially not available '. In essence, what that meant was my sister don't even bother to go to anywhere tomorrow because you would not be able to do anything. In other words, Madam, you are not going to service this January. End of discussion.

To be sure, i made some late night calls. True. Batch B Stream 2 Corps were due for Service in less than four days.

I made sure to gulp down the last drop of the milk-tasty Hollandia Yoghurt 350l pack before i dumped it.

Relief.

This was definitely not the reaction you expected from Yours Affectionately right. I mean, if you've followed me on my NYSC big dream fantasy, the NYSC big dream poetries and of course the NYSC big dream packed whites(which were currently fading off), then you know i ought to be crying and wailing and sulking, feeling so devastated that finally I've missed out on my big bang beam. And the crying and wailing and sulking ought not to have stopped especially when i saw colleagues i graduated with, in their Khakis and their States posing and posting on facebook.

But nope. None of that happened. In all honesty, this news of Batch B stream two leaving for Service dlammed across my face, more like a relief than a plague. I somehow felt like David of the Bible(if you're acquainted with that David story about him, Bathsehbah, the adultery and the resulting ill baby); prior to the death of the ill infant, David mourned and fasted and would not eat but at the death of the baby did he eat and drink and merry. Not like he wanted death for the ill baby but at its death, he knew his worrying had come to a halt; there was this influx of relief. That was the same state i was in. In other words, i could now conveniently and comfortably hunt for a job and presently, i could conveniently and consistly focus on completing my 23-poem Writing Vow which was only 10poems up at the moment.

And so, the following day, after gulping down the last drop of the milk-tasty Hollandia Yoghurt 350l pack, i dumped it and picked up my pen to begin this new poetry which i considered to be unique and intricate, namly Addiction. I mean how can a Girl fighting those king size body features be loving Sugar this much? It was surely because of...

ADDICTION
[b]It always begins with an initial curiosity
That curiosity; a licence to a lot of awakening.
That feeling likened to the quest of a toddler
Ordinarily, just a desire
A flint of a desire
To know.
To explore.
To unwind.
But truely never to sink in deep
Or be stuck.
For No, that is never the real reason behind it,
Behind addiction.
That backbiting Leech
With which one is caged
And most usually never easily untangled.
You want to know how it works in Love?
I'll be damned if i didnt say.
They meet. Just a very regular meeting.
And when they do,
There's this initial curiosity.
Mind you, its always mostly never about the desire
Just curiosity.
A flint of curiosity.
To know
To explore
To unwind
Into this new personality; the new presence,
This being.
And so, there begins a constant contact
Which is never meant for concern
Only, just regular check ups and meet ups and hook ups.
All mostly never, no never with an intentions.
But then these are but bewild, self acclaimed thoughts.
Which only disappoints
When one realises
That life without the other being
The once not-so-into-you affair
Has indeed drenched into an unending relay of affection
And all its accompanying emotions.
And then, one is stuck wondering
Of how it all began.
But for God's sake i say
It was all a process to addiction.
Addiction to a lover.

You want to know how it works in drugs?
I'll most def tell.
On the instance
One is always so disgusted
Even at just the smell of it.
Until when a friend
Who feels damn good from it
Leaves you in a magnanimous discombobulation,
Then that desire
A flint of a desire,
To know
To explore
To unwind
With this new highness
That wonderful Utopia
Of which you had once and almost earnestly never wanted to explore.
But now there, caught, entwined in the wholeness of the web
Is what you become.
Already very so sober and yet still wondering
How it all began.
Well, its a cliche now, but indeed,
For God's sake its all part of the process to addiction.
That bad bad addiction.

And time shall pass me by
If i tell long and gory stories
Of addiction
Yes, addiction to wine and to women and to money and to food and to recklessness and to sex and to greed
Of which there is so much entanglement
And yet not so much a way of detachment.
I fear addiction.
And i fear addiction.[/b] POEM 11. 04/01/2017

Meanwhile looking back, this was such a long poem. Lord have mercy.