Brackets of Division

That is when you are made to realize that love doesn’t love everybody. That is when a grown man cries without onions in the vicinity and realizes that, deep inside, he is homo sapiens just like a woman, just like a child. That is when the softest spot of a man is touched; and how painful the touch? It is as painful as a wound festered. That is when nights turn into endless dins and days get blank, oh so blank.

The brackets of division come in and leave a man feel balkanized yet he is in a crowd. These detestable brackets of division hit you with a vengeance and they dent your body organs. Your heart suffers internal bleeding because it can’t understand how things can turn from warm to lukewarm to freezing cold. Your brain goes a-wander because it cannot comprehend how thoughts can race in it as if there is nothing else to think of. These brackets make you feel like a man long dead; a man excommunicated. They make you see things as the Backstreet Boys visualized them in their song, Incomplete: You are awake, but your world is half-asleep.

I damn hate these brackets of division.

When the person you love introduces the brackets of division in your relationship and starts playing fishy, better run for the hills before we hear of your suicide attempt. They might have been a bit too careless with F-words and all, but the Eminem-Lil’ Wayne duo strongly made that point in their song, No Love. Weezy gives a line to use: “Throw dirt on me; and grow a wild flower.”  Say that and walk away with temerity and resolution.

When your workmates subtly bring in brackets of division at your workplace just because they feel you are made of different material to theirs, make haste and quit before we read of a man found dead at some back alley.

When your neighbourhood installs the brackets of division and everybody carries a panga intent on killing anyone who is not of their tribe, better say your last prayers for your world will be about to reach its omega.

When your parents encircle you inside brackets of division and decide to leave you to learn worldly lessons the hard way, say not a word. Just walk on and hope the fourth commandment hasn’t been amended.

And when everybody else works with the brackets of division and pushes, presses, shoves, steps on and hits you when you are in a queue somewhere, wear a brave face. Fight on with the knowledge that natural selection has never been more pronounced on this earth. It is at its peak.

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Hm, someone pat me on the back because I have freestyled using the first three concepts of BODMAS (NB: I used to be VEEERY poor in Maths).

If you count, I have managed to write 445 words, in seven minutes. Somebody give me a job and put an end to this useless writing . . .