Wednesday, 29 July 2015

Another way home


Take my hand and let's take that shortcut home, take my hand and let's walk down that road with the cracked pavements and broken streetlights, let's breathe the calmness, it won't last long.
Let the darkness shine our path.
Let me show you a darkness so beautiful, a black so bright, it'll hurt so good.
Let me take you to a place where there is no line between pleasure and pain, where they are one and the same.
The deeper the cut, the wetter the tear, the wider the smile.
Take my hand and let me take you to where the smile always follows the tear.
Let me open your eyes and show you a pain so vivid. Let me take you somewhere where the light doesn't blind you anymore, where the sensation is so intense it'll make you numb to all these lesser feelings.
Let me take you deeper, to a place where you embrace the fear, let the hurt flow through you, let the darkness open your eyes to colours you've never seen before.
Feel the rush, being wrong never felt so right, being bad never felt so good, and in that silence, that loud bellowing silence with drum beat of your heart giving way to the rising choir of your thoughts, then... Then in that darkness you will see... There in that silence you will hear that deafening faint whisper... do you hear it? That's you... that's your voice... what does it say? ... maybe then you'll finally know... really know... know you.
Give up everything, let go, fall, I don't promise I will catch, I won't have to, you won't want me to... fly, the bounce is that high.
Now I will say that line... that cheesiest of phrases... free your mind... you've chased the light so long, watching it dissipate through your fingers every time you try to catch it as if it was smoke... maybe now you see, that may be you should chase something more tangible, something that won't slip between your fingers.
Deeper now, take a deep breath, breath in before the plunge. Ready?
Just a little further and you're there, lost in the eternalness of that fading moment, it'll pass, it'll pass, all things must pass. It'll pass giving way to the birth of a new cycle, a new moment, from the top. The infinite repetitions, there you shall live, between every inhale and every exhale, between every rise and every fall, only the turbulence is constant, only the moment is constant.
Every exhale is a touch of death, every inhale is a breath of resurrection.

Tuesday, 2 June 2015

Hind Nassir

My plan, growing up I always knew I wanted to be successful, rich, famous, be a good man, do good things, travel the world, go everywhere I wanna go, be everything I wanna be. Then marry a good woman, a beautiful woman, have  beautiful amazing kids, then maybe, someday I'll be president, maybe.. just maybe save this country.. maybe just maybe .. save all of you. Then I'll die at the age of 85 surrounded by my 16 grand kids.
...
I would give all that up here and now just to spend an hour or two with her in my car just talking.
She's the reason I believe heaven exists, and I know I will never, ever, ever feel that good ever again, that I'm just faking it.
All this, all that I am, all that I ever was, all that I ever will be is a cheap price to pay to be with her.
She is home.
She's the reason I know that life isn't just unfair, that it's a joke with no punchline, and no one is laughing.
And I wish I can wish I never met her, I wish I can want to move on from here, but the sad truth is being here, missing her, talking about her, is as close as I can ever be to being with her ever again.
I meant every word, that because of her I didn't look forward to leaving this place,  that I didn't look forward to Heaven because I found Heaven in the warmth of her hands...
Where do you go from there? Knowing that it's all downhill? That the best is now behind you? That maybe the world is balanced and you've gotten all your good, all too early, all too soon and all at once?
I have nothing... I am nothing... it doesn't get easier... maybe God doesn't like you.
When you're left hollow and dry but still you cry and scream on the inside "why me?" And then you hear a voice whisper "... why not?"
"Suffer, that's all you're good for. Cry, it amuses me. You are trash, you were always trash and you will forever be worthless trash. What made you think you were ever worthy of being happy?
She deserves better than you and deserve less and if you ever try to be happy ever again I will make you watch her walk away again!"
....
The best I can hope for, the best I can pray for is that she always be safe, she will always be happy, she will find a good man, a better man, because I can't protect her, I am weak, and I can't make her happy, I am pathetic.
But this isn't selfless, but rather selfish, because asking God to watch over her and protect her, always and forever, is the only that gives me peace.

Tuesday, 26 May 2015

I call this one coward.


Of all the things he wants to say to her, of all the dreams he was to share, of all the hopes and silent prayers, he will say hi, hello, and bury all of it beneath the remains of his hollowed soul.
He wants to tell her that she was the place his thoughts would go to when when everything got too dark.
But she will never know that some guy, some kid, a random face she bumped into along the way still remembers her as the way it should have been, all that he desired, everything he never knew he always wanted, but he will forever be just a kid and she will forever be just a dream because he was a coward and she was elusive.

Hope

I call this one hope.

Speak to me of hope and of a bright future while I'm stuck here in a bottomless dark pit.
My fingertips are nothing but skin and bone, fingernails broken and bloodied, fingerprints worn to nothing from trying to claws my way out,  but all I did was decorate my prison walls with the scratches and scrapes.
Trying to escape took alot more from me than I did from it, more than bringing me any closer to the light.
And there I sat, there I sit, there I will always sit. Staring at the flickering light, taunting me with its promise of somewhere better, somewhere safe, somewhere that isn't here.
Here I remain, tempted to keep staring at the fading torchlight they call hope, but I'm too tired to, because the longer I see the light, the darker my prison becomes, so I don't stare, for this is the best I can hope for, for my eyes not having to adjust to the changing light every time I'm pulled back to reality.
This is hope.
This is home.
This is reality.
This is life.
Here I will always remain, close enough to hear them laugh, but not close enough to hear why they laugh.
I don't call for their help anymore, they can't save me, at least I choose to believe so, it's better to say they "can't" than they "won't", what could have I possibly done not to deserve rescue?
So the choices I have to make are 2, always 2.
To wait and forever, to forget why I wait and still wait, to endure silently.
Or to resist, to fight back, to break free,  but then only to realise I'm fighting my own shadow, and to fall down and crumble.
It doesn't matter which one I choose, because one choice will always lead to the other, so in truth there is no choice, only the illusion of choice.
This is hope.
This is home.
This is reality.
This is life.