Tick tock, ka Ching, chrrrick, tolling.
What if you find a book that has all of the answers that you don’t want to know? Would you dare to read? What if then the way you see the world changes? Will you start to see people changing their skins? Will you see your chains which are made of humiliation?
Will you be inside a cage and its key is with a master of your fears? Will you even try to break free? A slave you are, a slave you will be when it falls into the hand of another slave for it is his only chance to switch. Will your blanket shrink then and stop covering your cold feet?
Never mind, you know what is scarier? If the answers were for Yes or No questions and all of them were Yeses. Now, after you read, a mighty door will open before you and strong white light comes out, will you go in or do you fear the light now?
The more I am aware of my existence the crazier I get … I chose to see without the seal and accept them; those who live between us, I mean. My behaviour has changed since I became more aware of them. When I go to wash for the Maghreb prayer I move subconsciously in the bathroom in circles and my mind wanders off to discuss stupid small worthless conversations which are not related to each other. Maybe I’m taking them out of my system?
When my mother wakes me up for the Fajer prayer, I wake up laughing at her and I stay in bed till my mind wakes me up, I don’t remember laughing at her. In my prayers, I remember silly matters and try to hold my giggles by pinching myself. Last night I lost control over my body and I danced almost like I gave in to the music and my hair got messed up like the hair of a mad woman’s. I see my mom sometimes looking through the window with a fragile look on her face and a broken back, she looks too disappointed.
Last night though, I had the sweetest dream and I asked myself in my dream – “Am I dreaming? This is too good to be true … It is real!” Then I woke up and my mind made up its mind to check my arm. Yes, my mind, my soul and I are three individuals sharing a body. I couldn’t move my right hand at all, I tried to imagine it opening and closing but it doesn’t work. I thought “Is this a nightmare?” No, it is real. It’s six am in the morning and I am crying. I tried to move my fingers with my other hand but they won’t move, they were stiff and hard, I feared that they would break. I tried moving my wrist but it falls till the very end as if it’s dead. I tried to wake my hand up but there was no use. When I felt it, it felt like it’s another person’s hand, a Mannequin’s! It didn’t feel human at all, I felt betrayed.
I started to cry like a mother would on her dead child. I stopped to finally conclude – “My dream, it was too sweet, someone was trying to keep me in it so they can manage to kill my hand. Who was it? Why? What do they want?” I didn’t sleep yet, I’m too frightened! Oh please god, oh thank god! I won’t sleep for I fear the death of my hand!
Clouds of dust gave birth to a star.
A star that is not yet charted …
It is born by prayers from wars,
to wish upon for the good hearted.
The star kept glowing for time …
Giving light in the absolute darkness.
It stopped trying for it is a waste, a crime
to be unappreciated by the heartless.
There it was abandoned left to die …
To face the fate of being a black hole.
It kept weeping and wondering why …
Why has this had happened as whole?
The moon said to the black hole:
“You are still a star to me.”
… “Look into my dark soul …”
… “All what is in is gold to see!”
“I am the absence of the light,
I am the silence of the night.
All I do is pull, clutch and take,
and there is no decision to make.
I blend with the darkness as one,
isn’t it funny how I love the sun?
The sun does not agree with the moon,
and it won’t change its mind any soon.
The sun says that I am the reality.
A reality that shattered its dreams.
I am the example of abnormality,
not the queen of love realms.
Everyday I am blown away …
With the heat of its explosions!
The sun is there to save the day …
With warmth and devotion!
One day the moon will break.
The earth will start to shake.
The sun will melt and fall,
and I will swallow it all.”
My forbidden fear,
I thirst to have your soul into mine and let the soulless emerge satisfy my needs. The way you act makes me feel that you are the reaper and I am the victim and this change makes me feel alive enough to happily murder.
I am not worthy of you and I hate it, for I am the rotten apple that fell for Adam to sin on and you are my heaven. The devastating purity that lays in your heart makes me want to rip it out with my bare loving hands.
I do not deserve the kindness you have to give. You, on the other hand, deserve the fire you lit in my cold body. I shall bathe in your warm blood when the time is right and that is a promise for a lover to keep.
You think I hate you because I ignore you, or is it because of my dirty looks that I give you sometimes? I look at you like that because you are above me and that admiration is killing me. The truth makes me want to curl in a corner and weep my nightmares out but I will be your best nightmare instead.
-The immortal death, your loving angel.
I got used to the darkness and I have made friends with my demons. I accepted the monsters who are inside of me instead of fighting them. Yes, I feel good about giving up. The light now hurts my eyes and I am too busy curing my headaches to dull the pain. Yet, I want to feel something, even if it is anger and loathing …
I’m dead rotting down here with false expectations and hope that is forever lost. I have lost the will to live and to be better. My fears blossom inside of me like flowers and I think they are beautiful. My kind sadness became my inspiration, I’m lucky that he visits me from time to time. I begun to appreciate my nightmares, for they give me better stories. My days though … They are all the same; pale, old, dusty and people are the wind.
My mind is filled with traps, dungeons and old castles with secret rooms and cold prisons. My thoughts are easily disturbed like the surface of the water, therefore I appreciate the screaming silence. I don’t want to be saved for there is nothing to be saved. I am the ruins; it is all black, burnt down, broken and abandoned. When you look in my eyes, you’ll see nothing for there is nothing inside, nothing good.
I’d rather stick needles in my heart than to feel neglect or attention. Poison runs in my veins instead of blood and apple chunks are cutting through my throat, I shall not speak but I shall release it from its leash to let it feed and grow from time to time. Maybe I have lost my self for good but I am too numb to care. Let it be, what is the worst thing that can happen?