Scribbles

I lose sense of myself

I’m the happiest yet the saddest I’ve ever been

Im floating, i don’t feel the ground

It’s funny. The clouds are funny

So I laugh and I laugh

But then I remember

I remember my name and what it means

I remember my dreams

Everything starts sinking in blocking every gap that has ever let light

I sit and think

I cry

What a waste of letters this word is

 

 

Something heavy inside

Expressing it is a dream but words never seem to cooperate

Failure after failure to the point of giving up

it wouldn’t matter if the extension of giving up wasn’t a burden

Disappointment, sadness, reclusiveness, ending with death

Big old death

 

 

Is life supposed to be lived with misery to seek heaven after ?

Why is heaven a result of a being’s misfortune?

Patience.

Patience must be had to praise God’s fate

A God whose mystery to mankind will never reveal

Crucial pain followed by numbness to relief

 

 

Nothing that I am is real

Words wrongly spoken

Clothes not supposed to be worn,

Hate inside out, can’t be controlled

Death would be easier but fear holds

 

 

Broken english, broken Arabic is all I have

Feelings never properly expressed,

I never learned the language of words

But I know how to hold and love

With nothing to say I accept the world

But with a world so demanding of explanations I’m forced to speak words that don’t feel right

 

 

He’s here

I feel him

But I can never see his face,

He wanders around the room, I can hear him breathing

It’s dark. So dark

I never dare to look him in the eye

He’s smiling

He know’s I’m scared, and he likes it

At this moment I just wish it’d end, knowing that it’ll never end

The sun rises, I see light and with that I gather my strength

I get up and he’s gone

But it’s just a matter of time ’till it’s nighttime

 

 

It’s 9 in the morning

With a cup of coffee I sit on our dinner table next to the open window

Looking at them yellow fall leaves and feeling the breeze

I close my eyes,

and smile feeling you getting closer and closer

It’s starting to feel like home

“what are you thinking about?” You ask,

“You”

“You’re always thinking about me” you laugh

And I do.. nothing but you

Home.

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