Being in love is like having stomach flu.
You swallow again and again until your throat is wet,
Slick as a children’s slide,
And you swallow over and over to stop yourself
From throwing up over the person you love,
From causing them to be utterly disgusted with you,
Then the medicinal cart of self-medication, mutilation arrives,
That blooms in your head and causes nightmares
Because you’d rather die of this flu
Than have the one you love look at as you die;
Except instead of throwing up, it’s the words
That bubble up your throat, a chemical test tube,
From the core of the evil inside of you,
And you can’t do anything, because sooner or later,
You’re going to get so sick that you can’t keep anything down
And eventually they’ll get covered because they’re standing too close,
Trying to hold your hair, not expecting the slew of stupidity-
what’s going to come out eventually.

I often write about you
Creating an imaginary scene for us both
I know,call me sentimental
Or emotional,either really
But isn't this what they call dreaming?
Building clouds of invisible nines
Where you kiss me
And say "You know,I think I really like you."
Or the days we might grow old together
Sit by the porch
Listen to the music
You swore you would play for me
(I want to hold your hand)
I can already see
The letters you've written to me
Telling me of all the adventures
You want to go with me
Exploring every part of New York
Because that's the place we both love
And as I walked down the aisle
I know that every sadness I've ever felt about us
Would just drift off
As we say "I do."
Perhaps our first kiss
Would not be like the movies
We would be awkward
And laugh at ourselves
For thinking too much
Sometimes I would get paranoid
And try to keep you tighter by my side
But understand that
I only do that because I truly love you
The worst that could happen
In this dream
Is that we break up
And our hands touch for the last time
A goodbye peck on the cheek
"Stay friends okay?"
And we go in different directions
Becoming strangers again

The pain ended and the last tears fell,
i finally got out of hell,
i found a strength as strong as steel,
what i found is totally real.

You want me down to earth,
but i'm up in space,
just like a phoenix on his rebirth,
and i'm no longer out of place.

Come and take over me,
all i can do is agree,
i can hear you call my name,
saying welcome to the game,
come on and set me free.

I cannot hold on, i will not let go,
i'm seeing the signs from above,
i'm gonna be the one that you love,
you're so pure as the snow,
but we all fall like a domino.

Living here is not paradise,
i have paid the price,
but at least it's home,
and i'm in my zone,
this is what it feels like to win the PRIZE!

- Layth Awwad

Does nothing matter?
Is matter nothing but dancing shattered galaxies pushing and shoving each other?

And on Earth, is it worth thinking?
That I'm just a piece of eternal dirt thinking that I'm just a piece of dirt thinking?

We're all just stars, tasting humanity for an instant.
In all its fallacies, we're systems of suns that love murder without resistance.

With the assistance of Christian values and armed pistols.
Harmful as ignorance is blissful, we're still missing the deal.

We're still pissing away the real position to feel. We're still wishing down the same ol' wishing wells
and hoping to Christ they're real.

Worse than guns, it's the waste of freedom -- It's unequal -- to kill the hungry from a distance is still evil.

I fly atomically and everything else is informal.
What's normal? Where's God when things get so awful?

He's epidermal - like an antigermal lotion. A magic potion to nurture the thought that we're important.

We're all just stars, answering a call to be Human.
Let the cold bars that hold the others down remain open till my life is dormant.

And our heads are still cluttered and cloth covered.
Filled with an age-old confusion straight from ol' Mohammed's cupboard.

They fool us with cooked messages from book passages that preach love.
Scare us into being apparatuses of a God above.

That's why society is shattered. It's what's wrong with the world.
The perennial infancy of thought that's forced unto our boys and girls.

Such unclarity, that's baked into our childrens' recipe. It's insanity to think that we don't just turn back into energy.

I'm not religiously inspired to forgive,
nor have the insidious desire to live to inspire religious permittance.

I prefer a future purpose undiscovered.
A death dimension still covered from religions' crazy buffer.

1.
white chapel on a hill

sheep dot rugged, earthy slopes

ruminate on warm, sun-kissed dale

endless lines and lines of verdant tones

late afternoon sun slanting

behold, jaune compassion

alfalfa ocherous leans willowy in wind

distance of silence yearns on

afternoon shadows lie within majestic vales

powder-blue ranges in 3D tiers

shadowy rifts, like a painting out of heaven

lone tree not alone, reaches up

blinding turns and rust-coloured bends, twisty trails

two on horseback, apples for sale

reservoir as a hold all for all

brown mud is where redemption lies.


2.
sun dips away, out of reach

beyond the eye's catch

step out car

feel the ping of silence, deeply-alive zing

crowd in and then,

into the slot of torched horizon

the orange world slips . . .




S T, 19 May 2013

~ ~ ~
And in the narrow vision of my half closed eyes I see
Dark shapes emerging
And descending into every favorite object
Of my long harbored hopes and fears
And yours.
Inflicting my beloved place with darkness
They mount and dive into the realms of physics
And of clarity;

And so we sit
In our favorite coffee house with tea and cake,  and ache
And ache for we can feel their presence
As they invoke in us that fear
Of breaking mirrors and of shaking ground;

And now partaking in our gestures and our face
- They come into this world
And break what we had hoped for with a grace
That only creatures from the underworld possess
To lessen our role in the real world –
They grab hold of our arms:
Yours first
Then mine
And climb with us onto a mountain top so dark
And so remote that we now feel
As though our eyes half-closed again.

And in the beauty of this sleep
I am no longer able to shake off the beasts
Of non-reality.

today you hurt me
and yesterday and tomorrow
i hurt you
you whispered
that you never meant it
though you did
at the time
and the courage
to say such a poisonous
permanent
thing
is stronger
than any kind of love
you had for me
at the time
but i guess
i just have to forget
because my love for you
is too weak
and far too tired
to hold up restraints
and build walls
against your
careless poison
you’re the clots in my blood
the scars on my wrists
the tumour in my brain
and the salt on my cheeks