When I blew the fragments of my heart in the sky I hoped you would pick up every last piece.
But you left behind an important part part of me.
Since then, your love has never fulfilledme.
Flowing outof that unfixable gap.
Falsely bonded with glue.
You were blind to its incompleteness.
And never notices our love fading throught that crack.
So when each piece began to decay and fall apart,
You became ignorant to how you broke my heart.
Monday, 3 August 2009
A Stolen Heart
As I was digging my way through the depths of my emotional debris.
In the process finding and much needingly ridding of broken hearts, insecurities and ex boyfriends and finally creating some space in my cattle-market-heart.
I realised whilst dusting off my fear of commitment, that I have lost my heart.
Which is a bit of a bitch as I promised to give too two people and loan it to another.
What do I say when I turn up heartless? 'Sorry I'm not the loving type?'
With all lost things, you go to the place you had it last?
But my ex said he sent it back in the post, but forgot to label it fragile.
Which now explains how it got broken.
But I remember mending it until it looked brand new with no scracth in sight.
So where is the damn thing?
After weeks of soul searching, online dating and blind dates.
No avail.
This blood pumping muscle had done a runner.
Three months had past and began to put up 'lost heart' posters everywhere - with the cutest picture I could evoke symptathy with.
I was running around like a headless chicken - my emotional desperation was at an all time high.
I was even considering a heart transplant.
I wanted a heart and I want it now.
I setup a media appeal - it went nation wide.
Crime stoppers were offering rewards. The Sun had me on thier front cover.
Yet, she was still missing.
After a year the police gave up the search. But I never did,
They said she is probably dead in ditch that heart of yours.
I cried. I missed her so.
A few hoours later my bell rang.
But the person did not stay.
There was a box neatly tied with a bow.
I opened it, inside was a note, it read:
'Untill you are ready to give me away. I will come back home. Love Heart'
In the process finding and much needingly ridding of broken hearts, insecurities and ex boyfriends and finally creating some space in my cattle-market-heart.
I realised whilst dusting off my fear of commitment, that I have lost my heart.
Which is a bit of a bitch as I promised to give too two people and loan it to another.
What do I say when I turn up heartless? 'Sorry I'm not the loving type?'
With all lost things, you go to the place you had it last?
But my ex said he sent it back in the post, but forgot to label it fragile.
Which now explains how it got broken.
But I remember mending it until it looked brand new with no scracth in sight.
So where is the damn thing?
After weeks of soul searching, online dating and blind dates.
No avail.
This blood pumping muscle had done a runner.
Three months had past and began to put up 'lost heart' posters everywhere - with the cutest picture I could evoke symptathy with.
I was running around like a headless chicken - my emotional desperation was at an all time high.
I was even considering a heart transplant.
I wanted a heart and I want it now.
I setup a media appeal - it went nation wide.
Crime stoppers were offering rewards. The Sun had me on thier front cover.
Yet, she was still missing.
After a year the police gave up the search. But I never did,
They said she is probably dead in ditch that heart of yours.
I cried. I missed her so.
A few hoours later my bell rang.
But the person did not stay.
There was a box neatly tied with a bow.
I opened it, inside was a note, it read:
'Untill you are ready to give me away. I will come back home. Love Heart'
Tropical Wardrobe
I have decided that my palette for my wardrboe shall be inspired by these flowers, they are indeed my new muses. Which perfectly mirrors my new love for early nineties afro centric prints, body con dresses and chuncky calves. Please take not of below vids.
Graffiti in Crete (Part 2)
In the same city of Heraklion, these crafty artists sneakly out up some political stencil graff again communicating thier ideas of, anarchy, freedom of speech, and military control.
Graffiti Cretan Style (Part One)
After randomly deciding to go to Crete, Greece for a much deserved break. I stumbled upon some amazing peices of graffiti in Heraklion, the island main city. I guess hip-hops visual art form is a true lingua franca; I may not speak Greek but completely understood what these artists were saying.
Its been long time....
As Timberland says: ' It's been a long time I should'nt have left' but im back and ready to go.
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