I Gave Him AIDS part 1

Part 1

What is love?

What is to love?

What is to be in love?

I did it because I loved him. He said he loved me. All of me. Now he’s dying. Fast. Faster than me.

Dead. He died at 9:34pm, on a Tuesday, I remember it was on a Tuesday. Not quite the beginning of the week, But a day trapped, somewhere in the middle. I think it was a sunny day, bright. Ideally a good day to go. I don’t remember. My head was so cramped and clouded. Heart heavy. Floods of tears meandered down my face and neck. I hate hospitals! And this one was particularly busy. Buzzing sounds resounded in my head, all fused with the cacophony of a shattering heart. My discordant heart. All around me were faces of people trying to save lives. People fighting to live. I just wanted someone to take a life. Mine. I put my head on his now skeletal chest, I could just hear his breathing. Low. I couldn’t look into his eyes. Gone .He gave up. That day I did too. It’s no fun anymore. In this game of tag death always seems to win. Tag. It’s his turn.

I remember feeling so dried up. Dried up of all hopes and dreams and thoughts of love and tomorrows. All our tomorrows are now yesterdays, yester-months and yester-years. Memories. Vague.He died before I could even tell him I was sorry. I AM Sorry. I did it because I loved him. He said he loved me. All of me. Those were his words. Now he’s dead. Im dying. Fast. Tag. This time Its me.

I was never promiscuous, I was just naïve. I guess you cant really profile, AIDS. If you could would you have thought I had it? You were my victim. I guess I chose you the same way someone chose me. All I wanted was for my life to be normal. I wanted to finish school, get a job, start a family. Instead I fell prey to a person who sprayed me with this venom. Contaminated. There was no point in attacking or hating him, the damage was done. I was infected whether or not I liked it, wanted to or denied it. Then you came along. You didn’t know. I wanted it that way. You were my escape.I didn’t want anyone to know. It was my secret. Mine. You fell in love with me, I fell in love with life, again. I forgot. At least thats what I tell myself. “I forgot”.But Death didn’t.

I didn’t want to be alone in this. Who does? I let us live our lives as though everything was normal. I was your doctor thats all you needed. I was there. Thats all you needed. You were all I needed. But time and this malicious virus played its tricks on us. He came and knocked on your door when I wasn’t there to protect you. You let him in like you let me in.

What is love?

Isn’t love blind? Who determines who loves who.

What is to love?

Isn’t love unconditional, who sets the conditions.

What is to be in love?

Till death do us part.

I did it because I loved him. He said he loved me. All of me. I just didn’t tell you that AIDS was apart of me. Im sorry.

AfricanQueen

 

I am my own. Princess. Colourful.Fearless.

Painted by HIM

IAm

Dear polygamist,

I come here everyday and its the same thing. My mother is a helpless heap of bones, drowning in the sheets of a death ridden bed in the Avenues Clinic. Now a skeleton. Paralysed by the aspirations of all that life once had to offer. I think, its rather ironic that they named the clinic ‘Avenues’. The haunted hallways seem to conduct all the victims in one direction. Death. It’s in this moment when I have a silent aside. I hope heaven is real. Silence.

What hurts me about all of this; Is that death’s claws haven’t come to claim you yet. Like the typical self endowed, sex-craving, “ego-testical” African man, you are, you thought having multiple women made you a man. You thought, having a tribe of rogue and bastard children made you a Chief. You even thought, you were the only one fucking around so you didn’t need a condom……You were smart. Clever. Too slick to ever get caught. Meanwhile, whilst you repeatedly frolicked in foreign fabrics, bed sheets stained and scented with lust and deceit, you got yourself in a knot. Tangled.

You’re pathetic. You couldn’t even tell me why my mother was sick. You couldn’t even own up to your own mess. In my eyes, you’re swimming in your own shit and its a matter of time before you get swallowed whole. Which I hope you do. Three times over. I hate you. I don’t even know why they let you come here. Murderer.

Somebody.Why don’t we arrest, persecute, hang, stone, beat,ostracise, spit on men like you. Who seduce, lie and prey on undeserving women. Selfish. Rip apart families. Snatch young girls role models.Create vacuums. loneliness.She always told me about how you were her first. Her only. And now her killer. How unfortunate. You get to walk away. A free man. Continue.

Where I come from; men aren’t held accountable for spreading AIDS. Where I come from men never get asked to explain. Who. What. Where. When. How. Do you tell your daughter you are the reason her mother is withering away? We just let multitudes of women die. We don’t even acknowledge AIDS anymore, we just call it ‘The Disease’. ( Chirwere) .’Mans Disease’ is more appropriate. Men. To be precise.

I hope you die slowly. Father. I hope the AIDS weakens your immune system making you a cripple to a plethora of pain. I hope your insides knot and tangle, sending shots of acidic bile to choke and drown you in your lies. I hope cancerous ulcers erupt in your rectum so you can wallow in your own shit for a change. I hope your skin and tissue dissolves, slowly, exposing your character to every blood sucking mosquito, tarantula, and insect that would even touch the rotten piece of waste you are. Dad.

You are all I have left. Now. So because of that. I’ll write my feelings down and blog like the torn and lonely rag-doll I am now. Signed. Life. I AM.

EXPOSED

I tried to be everything, everything he ever wanted. And when he got the chance he left. Left me Exposed. He made sure everyone knew. He captured me at my worst and let the whole world see it.

The diary of a MadRagDoll

Skin baked by the mighty sun.

Shaped by a carpenters hand.

Breathed into by the grace of God

Seduced by sin and so to slave

I AM. I am. I am.

Forever your rag doll,

ragged and estranged.

Replaced but not forgotten,

I am.

The cobwebs of your nightmares and shame.

Signed your only rag doll. Eve.

I AM…. I am…. I am.

Estranged. My thicket of natural hair hasn’t been tamed for years. Ragged. Torn promises and patched fabrics were the only drapes i’ve ever had to hide me. The only thing keeping me from feeling completely naked in public. I am. Embarrassed. Stripped of my everything. Finished. I am.

I remember when I was knit together, things, weren’t so. Strange. There had to have been love. Or else, why tie the knot? Why Fasten the commitment? Especially with a child. Me. I am. Somewhere along the line HE wove a net of lies and the other woman stalked us, and like the black widow spider she is tighten her grip. Choked. I am. I’m always snagged in a loose end and made to witness my mother kicked . Down. Again. With her. This time. I am.

My father is abusive. My mother is dependent. I am. Ragged. His words, rip through her crown. Strands of her pride remain on the floor where her heart calls. I am. Choked.She is ashamed. More than her, I am.

Somewhere along the line I became her only friend. Her fears are now mine. Will he beat me?Can a man?

She cant stop crying internally. She cant stop dying. Its only a matter of time before I am.

“Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow”

Signed.

Eve .

Your rag doll.

I am.