When something happens to you for too long. You are asked to redress. Like go home and change that messy red dress you’ve worn for too long. Red was never your colour.

My mom would say- approach it, ask questions, book an appointment, especially if it’s something that understands English, directions, and consent. You will eventually get tired of trying to speak louder in a room full of people.

You learn to cut silence into patterns, when you’ve been ignored for too long and you have my kind of friends. You can’t keep offering your opinion when a train passes every time you open your mouth.

Silence made into a shirt and shorts is two times the length of I told you so, yet this tailor charges less, delivers on time, and doesn’t stitch my sensitivity alongside.




When I say no, don’t make replicas of my heathen insistence


and over

until it becomes a plague confident enough to make history.

It is harder expelling a negation that refuses to die with apop

than dressing up a body

that flows to the surface like outsider-niceness.


Consent is not a traffic sign,

Go-for-it green for when her brown melts

Into a saddened-red in a stare-down


Intrusion is a state of mind

You’d rather not have.

So you try to sift through instances

like sanity in a carry-on bag is your

best gift to yourself.


The deeper digging is within you,

Anything else is a climate hazard.

Alcohol tastes awfully worse than bad decisions.


Jideofor Confidence


Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *