Thursday, April 29, 2010


Strings of images intertwine. Before I can touch them, they fade into the blankness leaving me amidst plays of black and white. I clutch my lungs to narrow the holes and let oxygen in. Tears crystallize on the ground. Between the air and the air again, I let go of my eyes to see you.

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Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Monster Whispers

Are you afraid?  Afraid that I might unravel the few strings between our entities and let us be one? I have already done that. But don’t stop. Your fear is my passion. Your tears are my pleasure. Your screams are my laughter.

Your body is my grave. I buried myself under your skin. My blood runs in your veins. My marrow sinks in your bones. My heart beats in your flesh. But you touch and feel. You look and see. You listen and hear. And I own nothing more than the few inches within your skull. I am nothing but a whisper. But you  have to follow.....and I am everything.

Cover your ears and I’ll be your eyes. Shut your eyes and I’ll be your mind. Smash your skull and it's only you who will perish. Plunge yourself into flames and I'll escape with the fumes, whiffing your ashes. I am the monster you will never tame. So give in. set me free. Don’t deny my existence, I am as palpable as your pain . I am the devil in which you reside. I am your only refuge. Or run away and let the sunlight burn you. Embrace me or face the impending end. I am the whisper that screams and you will always obey. Always. So don’t torment yourself. Let me possess you silently, like colors dance in water. And water is never the same. You are never the same. You will vaporize out of this body.  Give in to the air. Be the air. Roam the Earth.  And when you are finished…I’ll be underground.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Three Legs

     The sound of the wooden stick treading the hard asphalt of the street reverberated through Darwin’s head. It was like music playing in the background, yet powerful enough to let any other sound drown away and fade.  And there was no way to hush it; if it did not exist materialistically, the numbness acted as a reminder.
    It started in his left leg, then, slowly, fulminated through every part in his body all the way up to his head, paralyzing every sensation. Though he had no choice but to always be there, he was never really  there. Images flitted before his eyes, then they would be transmitted to his head where they fused with its darkness producing grey memories that faded the moment they were born.  And words were spoken only by his larynx having no reference to his head. The wires had long been cut and his body lingered where his head did not.
He had shoved a jacket out of the closet without bothering to look which one he had been about to wear.  That did not matter,  He had wanted to be out. He had wanted to see and hear other things than the sobbing children and the infuriated mother; things he had not the least connection with. He had connection with nothing.
    He could see the park from where he stood, only few feet away. He abruptly halted considering going somewhere else; more children was the least thing he needed. But his body could not, and would not carry him any further. He gave in and entered.
    He collapsed into the only empty seat. Other sounds filled his heads, but nothing was distinct enough to be followed. He took off his jacket and put it beside him. His eyes focused unseeingly on one spot, and, already, he was drifting away.
  He saw a dark silhouette approaching. Now his jacket was thrown on the floor.
“Who on Earth is stupid enough to  ــــــــ,” he trailed off, astonishment taking place instead of anger.
“Emilia, nice to see you again Darwin,” a crooked smile was drawn upon her lips while she stretched her hand to shake his. Still confused, he let her hand touch nothing but air.
“Okay, okay Mr. Angry Boy,” she bent down getting his jacket, “I didn’t think a little fun would hurt anyone” He was now over the shock and made place for her to sit.
“Sorry, I didn’t know it was you,” was all what he was able to say. Speaking was not a thing he did quite often, the word “sorry’ was uttered even less. He got quite used to letting anger possess his tongue and no one objected. Nobody wanted to nag him after the accident, yet he was positive, most of the time they felt like chopping his head off.
Curiously, Emilia eyed the stick lying beside him.
“What’s up with that,” she said pointing one finger towards it.
‘Oh, I just use it to scare the kids”
“ I never though it’d get that bad. Then, it must be a good thing I got no kids,” she replied ,  her voice suffused with sarcasm.
 “What do you mean by that? Wasn’t that why you left me, because I didn’t want kids” Though that happened years before, the memory of it was clearer than that of yesterday.
“I had a couple of miscarriages then the doctors said it was a hopeless case” He thought there would be bitterness in the voice of someone who talked about such things. But there was not. And then he recollected how cold his own words were while talking about his own experience. As though her words reminded him of the numbness, he blurted, “Half my left leg is paralyzed”
“And you job ـــــ
“I lost it”
“Wasn’t that why you left me?”
“What’s your husband like?” The thought translated itself into words before he could stop it.
“My husband?,” Her mouth twitched , “I’m filing for divorce tomorrow”. Reading the thousand question in his head, she explained, “I caught him cheating on me”
“Stupid guy,” he snapped.
“What’s your wife like?”
A chain images of Lilly passed before his eyes and all that he could say was, “Stupid lady”
“What, she too is cheating on you?”
“Nah, she’s just stupid”
She laughed. It never went, how her laughter refracted on his face making him laugh too, no matter how bad he felt. It never went.
“We are so messed up,” she said, with traces of a smile still evident.
“We are so messed up,” he echoed her.
    Then, he found her head lying on his chest. Tears soaked his T-shirt, and, he too was in pain. She sat, silently letting the tears slither down their faces. It would take them nowhere, they knew.  But they held on to that moment until it went,  marking a second parting.

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Friday, April 23, 2010


Symphonies of destruction play. We recoil in the darkest hole. And they hunt us. They are within us. Our rage turns into wails. Into tears. And they never hear. So we burn. We burn them all. We burn us all. They fade in the whirlwind of days. But we’ll always last, in the particles of air.

Song 12: Recess-Muse
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Thursday, April 22, 2010

Rulers of The Vacuum

   Watch our words as they slip into the nothingness of everything and the everything of nothingness; they both mean meaninglessness. We speak what we do not feel for we feel nothing at all.
     Take my hand. Let’s dance on the thin line between sanity and insanity. We’ll feel, rendered insanely sane. And we’ll beg for the stoned pain to hit our frozen hearts, invigorate the blood, and erase the minds. We’ll dance like philosophers. We’ll dance like lunatics. We’ll dance like ourselves; but we lost that too, so we don’t dance at all.
       Tread on the past. Smolder it. Cut its throat. It’ll scream and sabotage our nerves. Smother the future; we’ll only live today. An d today we’ll last forever.
    Jump on the molecules of air, and blow the matter. Abolish it. There’s only what we see and what we feel. And we see nothing. And we feel nothing. We are who we are not and we are not who we are. We never were and we’ll never be. Sucked into the meaninglessness of meaning. We are our own language. We are the rulers of the vacuum. And they watch. But they don’t see. They never did.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Dancing Fears

And so this was how fear felt …..
     A hand coming all the way from ambiguous depths to strangle the power of thought leaving only shredded syllables from smothered words. And you try to wriggle and escape its tight grip by fervent defiance, or memories of it, it tightens your grip around your throat. The venom spreads from your head all the way to your heart and leaves its hammering to torment you. And then, you are your own self’s worst enemy.
My legs are too feeble…
My vocal cords are taunted…
I am so tired…
     You are there, skeptical, dubious, incredulous. Impossible. But nothing ever is. The glory ignited in your veins, certitude devoured your head and today was impossible, a nightmare you shoved out of your thoughts to save your self’s an hour’s worry, a truth you overlooked letting the jubilance of  now, the jubilance of then, wrench you here. Here. Here. Here. Here….
    Yes! Here! Look at here! Listen to here! You are here!  Absolute Freedom’s ashes are cool now. The illusion of  absolute freedom’s ashes are cool now. You were never absolutely free. Never. Never. Never. Never….
    It’s one thought that beguiled you, one flame that sat the whole city on fire. Fool!  How dared you dream? But no! The ashes of yesterday are cool now, let me perceive today. Let me perceive here….
   You are imprisoned now, not by place, but by the no-place. Sinking, drowning without a hand to pick you up. It’s all darkness. It’s al blackness. It’s all nothingness. Quick, cling to something solid. Absolute freedom!  That was your dream, absolute freedom. But the scent of the word now has altered; the senses it used to sow in you grew to be poisonous plants fringing your grave. Escape from now, exist simultaneously in two places. At two times. Let your body linger in here amidst the disarray of thought, and send you soul faraway. Let it savor the unseen future of yesterday, the ominous torment of now. And then question….why absolute freedom?
      You weaved a dream out of the worn-out strings of life, adorning it until your eyes were bound to look and ask, “Why not touch it?” . But that is the case with dreams. Cunning, cunning dreams!
Come back now and ask yourself, “Are you  absolutely free?”

     Because there is no such a thing as absolute freedom. There is no such a thing as letting the chains melt beneath our feet. They tell you are free, they are lying. You are never free. When you want to spend the night out then find your whole body shaking in to fits of coughing, can you go? When you head for the supermarket and your favorite chips are not there, can you eat them? When you want to buy a house but you are out of money, can you buy it? When you are crying, can you stop the tears from flowing? Can you control you heartbeats? Can you stop your lungs? Can you? Can you? Then you are not ‘absolutely free’, you are ‘merely free’. Search not for absolute freedom, for you only taste it when you do not exist. You are alive, then do not ask for it. Do not dream it. Don’t! Don’t! Don’t! Pull the trigger! Abolish! Be absolutely free!
A Halt
     But why do you need to be ‘absolutely free’ Free is just enough. Why do you ask for the unconceivable? Why free isn’t just enough for you? Fool. Fool. Fool. Such a fool you are. You are your own self’s lasher, you are your own self’s biggest boundary. You cannot be absolutely free, you cannot be just free, so why not want the impossible because it’s just impossible.  Because you do not want that reflection of the coward burn you. Go there, dress your fear in pretty colours and watch it dancing before you eyes. Give it different names, and enjoy the variety. You need not be absolutely free, and neither does any living person. Because we are all too weak to handle it. Too weak.  You need not worry about controlling your lungs, just breathe. Count how many breaths you’ve taken in, and what have you done with them? Nonexistence is not the route to absolute freedom, absolute freedom is the way to nonexistence.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Perished Seconds

Thrust your dagger into my heart. Once. Twice. Thrice. Take it away as I fall on my knees panting and whimpering. Run your hand over the wounds. Feel them sinking into the grey dust that ran in my pulverized veins. And whiff, perhaps one day you’ll find a scent.
My outer wounds seal as I push you away and jump back to my desolate ocean. I swim deeper into it, letting its ice anesthetize my skin and freeze my innards. I yelp, knowing that no answer shall ever come. I willingly give in and lay in its depth trying to gather the dispersed pieces of my lungs. I sleep. Sleep……
The ticking of the seconds is muted. No, not muted, it’s perished. Time is perished. And I run in the never ending shades of it. Take your immortality away, I don’t need it. Just give me my self back.

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Song 11: My Love-Celine Dion

Friday, April 16, 2010

55-Silent Confessions

The insidious night wraps its dark covers around the windows of my room. A hoarse scream echoes through the walls, reflected right on my face, but I have no wish to hear. I cover my ears and sink deep under the quilts. But it’s there, eating up my innards. “It’s me, I killed him!”

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Day 10: Soaked-Muse

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Theme Thursday: Because We Have Always Been Eating

     It is always about appearances, and sometimes nothing but appearances. We so perfectly carry on with our rituals, without a care in the world why. We always did that, that’s why. Yes that’s why. And maybe some other day –a day that has long sunk into the waves of time leaving those traces that we blindly follow - things actually had a reason.
      Your spoon is dug deep into your plate and you then move it to your mouth, swallow and have another spoonful. And I cannot help wondering, do you even know what you are drinking? But you are drinking it, because every Thursday for the past twelve years, you have always drunk it. Both of our lips move and our throats rumble because some vocal cords seem to be vibrating in there. People always talk while having their lunch, but I reckon that somewhere, we forgot the words and we drone on in our cacophony. As you sit there across the table, I marvel at the face of that stranger that you’ve become. Since when do you wear glasses? And what colour is your eyes? Oh wait…there’s a much better question: Why are we married? I know the answer of that one, simply because we have always been married.

Check out Theme Thursday for more takes on this theme.
Day 6: Fragile-Delta Goodrem
Day 7: Taking Chances-Celine Dion
Day 8: Another day-Paramore
Day 9: Hello-Evanescence 
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Allie gave me the Honest Scrap Award
Now I should say ten things about myself.
1-I hate school (naturally)
2-I don't like being around people.
3-I hate doing something without knowing why
4-I've been drinking Coffee since i was ten.
5-I hate shopping.
6- Okay, so enough with the things that I hate, now I have to figure out something that I actually like. I like....Science Fiction and Dystopian Fiction!
7-I love the sea in the night when everyone is asleep.
8-I have never travelled outside Egypt.
9-I have a proclivity towards frugality. Don't get it wrong, I just hate wasting money on stuff that are not worth it-aka not books.
10-I am done and that tells about me that I have nothing else to say.
Okay so now, I'll pass this award to six super-awesome bloggers:

Monday, April 12, 2010

Farewell Fornever

How I wish to recoil back to my dark solitude and let my eyes bleed for eternity. But alas! I am out of blood. And never again shall I wish for loneliness; it's embedded in my core.And what is it to be seen beyond the clouds but your face?

You never left me; a hidden fourth dimension to my existence.


They never feel

Will never feel

The immortal  symphony of love

Breaching the sky

Out of sight is never out of mind

Farewell fornever my dear                                                                                                                              

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Sunday, April 11, 2010

Magpie Tales: Reflections

The word kept on resonating through the chambers of her unfathomable soul, echoing the depth of her insecurities. Covering her ears would be of no use, it reflected on the shredded glass surrounding her.
Inescapable. Inevitable. Ugly.
The colours drenched her face, change it beyond recognition. Yet it would always be there.  Inescapable. Inevitable. Ugly. And she knew it. And she loathed it.
She threw herself into the ruthless arms of another night, waded through it, begging for temporary amnesia. She saw herself in the reflection of many ravenous, illaudable eyes. Finally she felt….. beautiful. . Woke up bare and alone, Inescapable. Inevitable. Ugly.

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30 Days of Music, Day 4: Cross Pollination-Muse
                             Day 5: Give Me a Sign-Breaking Benjamin 

Friday, April 9, 2010


I let my heart beat with the whishing leaves. The grass caressing my naked body and it’s somewhat comforting. I open my eyes and everything is red. I try to scream but the broken teeth suffocate me. A face in the moon appears. You carry me in your arms, and I close my eyes again.

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30 days of Music, day 3: Cosmic Love-Florence and The Machine

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Theme Thursday: Dystopia (Empty Boxes)

Come, smell the last scents of life as they are wrung out of my body. Taste it, devoid of feeling. Watch me, as I wriggle on the yellow soil, begging you to help. But you are too deaf to hear my strangled screams. You are like them; in chains. We used to be so free.

The rifts between our one entity widen. We are a million, bereft of immortality as they steal our voices. Blind as bats as the ferocious tigers usher us to our desolate graves,at the far end of humanity. Are you happy now? I’m sure you do not understand. We used to be so free.

You would not teach me how to sing, I’d sing my own melody. You’d not empty me and make my soul filled to the brim with you, I was immune.  You would not blind me like the others, my eyes were always wide opened. But now, I’m tired of fighting. My soul loses its power and is bends on one knee. My heart refuses to go on. My lungs are closing in. My mournful soul is withering. My sullen face is apathetic. My love is abolished. We used to be so free.

Now, I capitulate my vanity to you. In silence, I watch the single light ray slitting through the age of darkness; not contagious like in the past times, always alone. In silence, I lash myself for halting and not following it till the end of time. In silence, I reminisce the times when we used to be so free. Free of sin. Free of chains. Free of ourselves. Free……..

Free of memories.

Empty boxes.

Are you happy now?

Wash me away
Clean your body of me
Erase all the memories
They will only bring us pain
And I've seen, all I'll ever need
Citizen Erased-Muse

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30 Days of Music, Day 2: Misguided Ghosts-Paramore
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Monday, April 5, 2010

Magpie Tales: Burning Ashes

I woke to breathe in the air of my dream. I knew it would never be mine, and yet I’d always dream it.
I masked it.
 I hid it.

You were never to see for you would never feel. But I was too weak. I stripped myself from those woven lies and let you see me; the shadow of your heart.
You relentlessly took my heart from my ribs and held in your cold hands, squeezed the blood out of it, and left me with no heart at all. I wailed. I wept. But you wouldn't give it back to me.
Too late, for eternity it was yours.

 I tried to hold you, but you slipped between my fingers. Never to be restrained by your love. Never to be restrained by me. And so you flew away to your freedom, leaving me ever burning in your old ashes.
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Saturday, April 3, 2010


With heavy steps, she tottered to the kitchen, turned the kettle on and waited outside for the water to be boiled. Her eyes closed and suddenly, she was lost in a line of thoughts that mingled with incomprehensible short dreams. The sound of the whistling steam stopping abruptly woke her up. She poured the water into her favorite cup and added a packet of coffee and sugar.
Holding the cup in her hand, now more awake, she headed back for her room. The world was still sinking in darkness. In fact, the sunrise was two hours away. And that was exactly what woke her up quite so early. She put the cup on the table next to her bed, and snatched the novel lying on the same table. Reading a few lines, she realized that was not the thing she wanted to do. She closed the book and returned it back to its place.
She opened the window above her bed and lied on her back while contemplating the stars. Once again she was lost in her line of thought utterly unaware of anything happening outside.
The abrupt sound of the door flung open made her heart skip a beat as she tilted her head quite as quickly to see who it was. A shudder ran through her body as she saw her mother darting flaringly towards the opened window. She covered herself with the quilts as a reflex reaction but knew that would only make things worse. With shaking voice she blurted, “I didn’t sleep like that, I’ve just opened it.” Her mother, still furious said, “You stupid thing! How many times do I have to tell you, you are not allowed to open the window after 5 p.m!”  She covered her eyes for as long as two minutes after the window was closed, then slowly looked through the cracks between her fingers to find her mum still glaring at her. Now she was gone.
She didn’t cry, nor did she hate her mother. She rather laughed sardonically at how ironic things can get. She, of all people, had to adore the night air so much that she would happily endure doing stunts like that on a daily basis. She, who almost annually was thrown into furious fits of coughing that would last for months on end, bereaving her of her voice and making her so frail she couldn’t lift a paper out of its place. However, she looked at the whole thing from another angle; maybe if not for the adventure it would take to enjoy her beautiful breezes, she wouldn’t love air so much.
She heard a door being closed. Almost automatically, she rose out of her bed, opened the window, and began drinking the coffee.

I want you to tell me, do you think I'm better at prose or poetry?