Oya! Oya!

I am stalling a mystic void. A miss or misapprehension of enigmatic misproportion to be frank. Common regressive slump outs forming effortlessly. Feels like that chronic leprosy with a hint of Ebola. A bloody affair in infected infestations. Smells of death, stench of hopelessness. A deprivation of freedom sulking in an improbable sleep. Peace shattered in an acidic resurgence and insurgence. Looking up from a hell hole. A hole filled with lust for anarchy, disdain in a galaxy of milligrams. Scores of nova not borne in vacuum. I don’t know, sometimes it’s weirdly weird how devoid of love and drawing a home (‘purported’) could be. I don’t know, sometimes it’s weirdly weird how a plenty of love and drawing a home has. I feel tired; exhausted much. Even my being Kenyan is starting to toll, which is quite questioningly questioning to be frank. Am I not a valid statistic of a haplessly mentality visioned youth, laden with hysteria, panic, impatience…et al. I don’t really like or recognize how desperately devastating a family has flipped on to be, since like the couple of a recent time of years. How bland my mis-apparent skepticism concerning this disjoint. How often so could someone, day-to-day, feel dramatically ground-zero grounded like, a whole imbalance from the region. Life is fun; life is interesting; life is lethal. Same old, different day. Circling a wander occasionally. However, I sense greatness on the up-rise, I, too, feel exceptional with the sun on the rise. Dark, neglected furor of disdain and discord. Early break, dawn and nothing of a morning, I’m bored. Can’t i just shed and reincarnate a mystic rejuvenation? All in all, a simple song is sung. A simple noose too hung. A simple song is sung. Sheltering all this discontentment, trying to, to say the least like sitting down to write a book. I wouldn’t and don’t say to myself, “I am going to produce a work of art,” no. I write, just write. Because there’d always be some lie I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing. Of course, George Owell had it all figured out. Maybe…well I couldn’t be completely sure at the same time though, the absurdity that it is. You find that time gets spent in an introspection and another, trying to validate and train out our (or mine then) philosophical school of thought, effecting out mountains of efforts to find inherent meaning (of technically anything if not everything) which ultimately fail. A constant reminder of ‘the immortal’ absurdism life tends to bear: the conflict between human tendency to seek inherent value and meaning in life, and the human inability to find any. This, explained in how absurdism doesn’t selectively get found in the universe or the mind, but rather, co-exists simultaneously in both of them. I mean, wasn’t Albert Camus on point when he told us, “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” ?? Whatever he enlightened himself with then was mystic perfection. Soldier on, soldier on. Let alone the kind of collateral damage such a ‘movement’ strings along (obviously), one, should wholly appreciate the kind of emotional and mental (maybe spiritual too) arousal it comes with at that moment, well since it draws you into its platform of a canvas, kind of emotional singularity…you do know, apparently, scores of beings existing on this rock only know of an emotion as it is portrayed to be in the English Dictionary…its definition. A bit absurd, right??? Well, there’s the thing, considerable empirical evidence links prolonged states of emotional arousal, and the concomitant physiological arousal, with the susceptibility to certain somatic disorders. Clearly, (it apparently tends to be) someone who cannot verbally express negative emotions will have trouble discharging and neutralising these emotions physiologically as well as physically. Eh, isn’t it trending to be known – of course those who don’t know this are just too ignorant for their own well-being and stability – wait…it has always been known, that all feelings, whether normal or pathological are ultimately bodily feelings. Those with it lack a livid and lived understanding of what they experience emotionally. This ends up implying that a glitch in the process that permits the expression of feelings in words that capture the body’s involvement in these feelings. Okay, *flashback* in 1972, Peter Sifneo introduced to psychiatry the term alexithymia, which (derived from Greek) literally means having no words for emotions (a=lack, lexis=words, thymos=emotions). And embraced the word was; alexithymia, to show it off in the psych world. Here’s the funny thing, alexithymia – besides the bourgeoisie embrace of it as a disorder – is not a diagnosis but rather a construct useful for characterising patients who seem to lack the words to describe these feelings to others. Identifying this apparent deficit in expressiveness is important because doing so gives the clinician a leg up in making a diagnosis and charting a therapeutic course. Talking about medicine and therapy, the reshaping of the pharmaceutical industry is blatantly evident, right?? The industry’s long successful strategy of placing bets on a few molecules, promoting them heavily and turning them into blockbusters worked well for many years, but its R&D productivity has now plummeted and the environment’s changing. It’s believed (by obviously many) that -roughly- seven major trends are reshaping the marketplace:

  • Instances of chronic diseases are increasing, placing even greater pressure on already on stretched healthcare budgets.
  • Healthcare policy makers and payers are increasingly mandating what doctors can prescribe.
  • A growing number of healthcare payers are measuring the pharma-economic performance of different medicines. A widespread use of electronic medical records will give them data they need to insist on outcome-based pricing.
  • Boundaries between different forms of healthcare are blurring as clinical advances render previously fatal diseases chronic and the self-medication sector expands.
  • Demand for medicines is growing more rapidly in the emerging economies than the industrialised economies.
  • Governments are beginning to focus on prevention rather than treatment, although they have not yet invested very much on pre-emptive measure; and,
  • Regulators are becoming more cautious about approving truly innovative medicines.

Time’s a changing. Soldier on, soldier on.

Of course, time evidently embraces change as it yonders about, it is how it is…well, let’s face it, time in itself as it exists only exists because well, of Mathematics apparently (the numbers, that is). Without numbers, no time, without time even abstract forms of anything, or technically everything, would exist infinitely (if at all) or not at all. But hey, don’t we live on all the time, like give or take every single day, for anyone , and with everyone. Diligently. Look at it this way, I stand before you, rather, a diligently privileged black man; A smart man, still soaking in those warm and forgiving rays of youth; Books stacked around me, a veritable ocean of knowledge at my feet; Family at my hearth, friends at my doorstep, love by my side; So tell me where this feeling is coming from; Tell me why when I look in the mirror; There’s a reflection; He’s handsome, looks like he’s got his life somewhat in order; He smiles. Ahh now you’re sure; You see his lips part, his eyes curve, his shoulders firm, radiating a calm confidence; You don’t see his nails digging into his skin, those fists that want to hit; Over and over again until that mask is shattered; Then you finally see; His grey weary soul; Take away the brush from the sun whose rays covered; those rivulets, the trails of many, so many tears shed; those ridges in his brow, the weight of hos worries; the dark circles, too many sleepless nights; Tossing and turning because can you really sleep with a restless heart?; Tell me this because everyone at some point has felt the dull persistent pain of unrequited love; You know it. When you can see the one you love carrying on with their life; You watch them laugh, smile, bond with other people and you ache to connect with them; Sometimes you wonder how they can’t feel the intensity of your emotions as they walk past you; Isn’t it worse when they are close? So close you could take their hand and place it on your sleeve; Where you’ve placed your heart just for them, oh; If only, if only passion was enough to move that heart that eludes you; You’ve got to imagine laughing, hugging, smiling, crying just existing within the same space; Look back at him, watch him crumble to the floor; Clutching his chest to keep his fiery heart from falling apart; Watch his arms shake, trying to keep him steady; As his mind is filled with all these thoughts he’s tried to run from; They assault and gore him. An imagined kiss here, a memory of a stray smile; Both hands hold back hiss heart; it can’t; he won’t let it; So he turns to the one thing that’s held it together this whole time; Hope; it will happen one day; False or true. He stopped caring about such things a long time ago; The fire dies out. Stand. Reach out; Become the sun’s canvas again; Do you witness him now? Lips wider apart, eyes stunningly shining, fists at his side; He’s back.



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