The Flaky Derelict

Of masks, monsters and demons caged in my head.


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On Suicide: Choo Choo

314848_15479729_lzSuicide.

See,

I don’t get what the fuss is all about.

I mean, You add the act to the a masterclass of dramatic music and a morose backstory et Voila: another Shakespearean tragedy collecting dust in the dungeons of many a memory castle until its biblical ashen oblivion. Pathetic.

On the other side of the faceless coin, I stripped suicide from its fineries, its theatrics and its orchestra and accepted its nakedness for what it’s not; it is not my cowardice nor my bravery, it is not my well deserved catharsis and it most definitely is not my long awaited salvation.

Why then?

The meds? The Colours? The depression and attention deficit? The 9 to 5. The highway drive. The bus. The rent. You, him, they, us. I could tell you that it is any or all of the above but it’d be a lie.

It is just me. Aye.

I.

I, I, I adore and condemn I, insecure and lost I, Grey I.

I am just bored, you see.

Deadeyed and hardened by the consequences of conscious colourlessness, I survive.

Yet I am not chewing at my broken nails nor laying on the cold floor in a puddle of my own making.

I am just done, you see. The self conscious, self righteous and self obsessed I has reached the final destination of the fear and loathing train going: Choo fucking Choo.

Dive

Descend

End.


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Red II

I see you
dressed in black
carrying red
atop your head.

I see you
passing through
wearing blue
when blue
never suited you.

I see you
Heeding the call
the unmasking
the fall
seeing me
I
A grey
sad as it may

I want to write you
tell you I’m restless
tell you I’m sorry
to come to me
undress to undo me
lay beside me
and dream of colours
Inside of me
but unfortunately
You are me.

I see you
stars above
rain lust on me
surrender
and look at me
as I consume you
get high off of you
bite your thighs
and wrap fingers
around your neck
abuse you
if it please you

O’Stars above
dressed in black
carrying red
I see you.

Your idiot.

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Floras

Flowers should not grow

In the chest of a crow

The realm of ice and snow

Where dragons died

And children cried

Where Gods bled

And the dying fled

The lives they’ve led.

 

Flowers should not grow

Though I’m glad they do

For I love broken things

And breaking things anew

Do you?

Beautiful view askew

I wish I flew

Alongside the heart I slew

Above the earth

The pain it brings

the stench that stings

But I do not.

 

I do not

So I’ll keep my silence

Avert my eyes

Reveal the truth

Beneath frail disguise

Crave what’s between her thighs

Of love, lust and sweet demise

As she sips the wine

And pours me sighs

For in me

Flowers should not grow

Dive

Descend

The end.

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الغريب : لن أقتل بيدك

حبيبتي 

مابيدي سؤالك 

ولا البكاء على اطلالك 

ولا اشتهاء فخذيك 

فقد احببتك

 ادمنتك 

كالموج لصخر يكسر 

كالندى لشجر يأسر

ولكن لن أقتل بيدك 

بل اقتل الشعر بعشقك 

فحياتي, وإن خلدت 

فانية 

كتلك لسكير بلا نبيذ 

بالية 

فالكأس تلهي 

وتضحك وتبكي

وتنتهي 

ليكتب وترقصي 

على الحان كانت 

وانغام لن تكن 

وقصيدة صرخت :

حبيبتي.

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King of Nothing, Jack of the Ashes

I am the paradox

I am the grey

I am the hunter

I am the prey

All in order

All will pay

For sex and for foreplay

Wherever demons may lay

or maybe not

Dot. Dot. Dot.

I am the void

A derelict, devoid

Consume what surrounds

And all that’s ‘They’

On the precipice I may

Beg her to stay

Then push her away

Or maybe not

Dot. Dot. Dot.

I am the scream

Beyond the sigh

The dream of a heroin sky

The truth, demise of the lie

The king of nothing

Jack of the ashes

Or maybe not

So save me not

And break me not

Because maybe

I am just a maybe

Dot. Dot. Dot

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Death Is Red

See,

I’d always thought I’d be around to witness the death of everything and everyone, mine with intrigue, but I hardly ever imagined that my demise would be a woman. A beautifully designed one at that.

I’ve known the foreign beauty for quite some years now, yet I was never keen on identifying with her nor had any intent on showing her my true colours, not because of my lack of eloquence nor because I secretly coveted her with inexplicable zeal but rather because she was a ‘Grey’. Greys are true to their colourlessness; Nothing and everything, all in a carefully orchestrated chaos that they’ve created alongside a legion of masks and facades to hide whatever darkness lies within. On most occasions she would wear this pink array of carelessness and false wisdom, admittedly it worked for her but I am in a very pretentious and destructive phase of my life. 

But..

And I love the word ‘But’… it stops, it interrupts…

But…

I was high. A funny fact about drugs/alcohol and I is that they allow moi, yours true, to be who I carefully hide as well as think aloud like a twat; They reveal me to ‘Them’.

Unmasked, I asked her in whispers:  

Who are you?

If someone asks, rather, if I asked, what would be your answer?

And before I could retract the question that sounded rather pointless, she swiftly pierced me with a calm, collected and genuine answer:

I am death.

I leave and all ends.

It is what it is.

I was lying in bed yet my knees gave out, my heart excitedly skipped around my chest and I kissed her. The last part did not actually happen but in my world I was salvaged by the image. 

Most men long to meet their maker and ultimately give up their demons, I offered mine in submission in return for  some of hers. Fair Trade. The girl who was death had finally come for me and I’d always imagined the death of everything and everyone. She is Red.

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Artwork by : Yasmine Al Adawy

 


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Affection II: Pain, acute

See,

You did love her

In your heart of hearts

With the sum of your parts

but it happened

you fell from grace

and she did part

It happened

It is done

bound to be embraced

So wear misery’s crown

And flaunt it around

The throne is well deserved.

See,

You’re not lost

Not quite

On the precipice, you lay

Tomorrow day

So dance tonight

to the song of conflict

To the conflict in song

Only then, you may

Find your way

To jump

Or to smoke up.

See,

I wish I could say

It will pass

Or all will pass

Only time passes

The rest stays

As scars

Eating away at your spirit

Or crests

Honouring your chest.

All hail the pain

All hail the crown

All hail the king.

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