Stupefied Shores

Where intestines choke of opium

Receding into bloodstream like diffused fairytales

Destined for doom and incompetence

Where Daedal hands of nature allure wilderness

Promiscuity and lust

Pouring their egos and indignity into one

Where booking dot com ratings is the king

Crowning endless summers of scorching shores

Undefined bikini lines and seventy-five-year-old Masaai love stories

Walking the hall of fame in its utmost glory

Bedecked with sullied rumors and dashing daladala

Both, chasing our souls

Where from blinding lights and social status

Men rule the roost

Where days pass by like dark clouds of dismal

Vying for silver coins and dreaming of Tanzanites

Where life seems to crawl in insobriety

As if, coyly renting its steps from the walking deads

Or shall I say, smoking ghosts

Where lungs are pitted with black smog

Curtailing our linguistics and breath

Mostly, both, at the same time

Not knowing which came first

Only to utter in profound deference

“Welcome to Zanzibar!”