Who Bewitched Me?

I am asking; who bewitched me?
With that sharp secret of voodoo,
And the potent black charms,
Cursing my money must go to waste,
In buying strong wine and sharp alcohol,
In the binge drinking down to dawn,
That the menial balance in pockets
I must buy-up a used prostitute,
In the shaming twilight of the new day,
When others have fucking done with her,
Then me in the power of alcohol I am propelled,
Into blind appetite, I pay with nary money,
I am left with, for the un-condomized sex,
With a slogging whore, the poor harlot
As if I am non-literate of the times,
When only in the time worn bag,
Pegged at the muddy walls of the shack,
In which I hoover; is stuffed a university degree,
Who bewitched me to be such a headless dude?
Using my own money to buy my own death,
I beg, I beg, I beg, I beg; to be told the wizard
I beg, I beg, I beg, I beg; to be set free,
From the voodoo tangling curse of drowsiness,
Alexander Khamala Opicho.
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Articles by Alexander Opicho