But I Took The Pills Poem by Brian Nyakundi

They lie naked on the bed
Lazily turning as they watch the smoke drift upwards.
The room is stuffy
Curtains drawn
The smell of bhang hangs in the air
Mixing with the putrid smell of yesterday's debauchery.
"I am 4 days late."
She says as a matter of fact, her words slurred.

He says nothing
And takes a long puff at the roll.
The embers light up his face, Showing a man prime at his youth. 
He shifts the pillow in slow deliberation and plants his elbows,
His palms supporting his jungle chin.
She sits up and stares at him,
The effects of the drugs suddenly ebbing away.
"John? ! "Her voice is now almost a quiver.
Her eyes bulging out, darting around the dingy room.
He reaches out for the ash tray, a broken piece of a coconut shell with jagged edges.
It sits at the washing sink, staring back at the ensuing spectacle.

"I thought you took the pills."
His voice is rough, deeper than usual
Maybe due to the incessant use of nicotine.
He is calm, nonchalant even.
Seemingly eager to toy with her sense of urgency.
In the background Bob Marley spews from a stereo.
'Old Pirates, yes, they rob I! Sold I to the Merchant ship...'
She clutches at the soiled sheets
And sighs out loudly.
"Of course I did! What kind of question is that anyway? "
"Then you have nothing to worry about, Susan."
He rarely calls her by name. 
This is odd.

She rises from the rickety bed
The crumpled bed sheet still clutched under her arms.
Its funny, Funny how she suddenly feels the need to cover herself.
He surely doesn't deserve the view.
She hits the showers.
He hits next on the playlist.
And as if by cue, Prince fills the room with 'Purple Rain'.

John rummages around
And finds his favorite T-shirt
On the front it reads 'PEA-NUT'On the back 'BUTT-HER'.
He smells the armpits
Utter havoc meets his nostrils.
But still he dons it. It is his favorite
For what else can a man do?