I don't have a title

I don't have a title. I lay on my bed, looking at the love of my life, my phone. I have got a lot in my mind. My brain(s) hurt or is it my head. I have a long semester ahead of me, I only haven't or, have managed to raise a quarter of the whole amount of fees required, I am worried or I shouldn't. Worrying won't solve anything. I have to raise the money.
I tell myself one day I will be big, I will be on top of my game, on top of the game, I'll lead the leagues, they will look up to me. Every day I tirelessly out do myself; hosting "ghost" shows, interviewing "ghost" guests, reading real adverts and many other 'silly' stuff I do. I will probably be a presenter at Capital or at Kiss or nation FM, that's what I think about all the time . It's what I want, it's what I work hard for in school.
I wake up in the morning to listen to Kiss not because I love the show, but every time I hear 'her' voice coming out of the radio, I feel it should be replace it with mine (not that her voice is bad by the way). I hear my deep hoarse voice in radio. They are not hallucinations or imaginations, are they dreams? Are they goals?
Waking up at six to listen to this radio show is an easy task for me, yes I know what you are thinking, I am too lazy, I have no purpose in life, you have all your reasons, well, they are yours.
I wake up to listen to, and learn a thing or two about radio but, unfortunately or fortunately I do that from my bed. Most often than not I'll sleep, yes again I know, I tell that to myself all the time.
I specifically remember this Wednesday morning, 'she' was interviewing Elani, you know Elani right? I dozed off. But in between I could still hear their voices, I could see myself sitting beside Maureen asking questions, I was hosting the show. Ooh!! That feeling.  My alter ego had come out of its shell. I was on top of my game, top of my league, on top of things. It was just a dream though I woke up back to reality. Thanks.
So is that the dream people talk about? Is that the epic dream? Was that the valid dreams I heard? What is a dream, what are dreams. I don't know...
What I know is that I have goals, epic goals, I will work my way, but until I achieve my epic goals I got to pay my fees.
I have nothing else to talk about today, I'm happy, I have written a blog, I have been wanting to write in a very long time, but procrastination is a killer of time. We do this again tomorrow night. Be safe.

Poem by Adelle Onyango

The Vagina Awoke

Brown canvas. Black round stories.
His nails dug holes in my stories.
Numb. She let him.
I didn’t want fingers lathered in lies fondling my pages.
But she. She was numb.
High. Sippin’ on what they served.
But she. She drank. She was numb.
So he painted that brown canvas
A pale green script of lies
Groomed to mature into orange truths.
How do you play dead in a plain of life?
How does beauty captured in a mirror belong to them and
him?
I’d fuckin’ had it.
So I peeled off orange corners
Painted over green lies
Painted a kaleidoscope of warmth
I kissed it to life with lips of definition
I drew the curves of a breathing Vagina.
One that speaks and owns.
And she woke up.
Turns out she’d fuckin’ had it too.
Adelle