He stares out the window
for hours,
that little stray cat we’ve taken in.
Watchful and serene by the warmth
of the daylight,
contemplating the sun.
His belly has grown plump since that
bitter December day, his fur now white
and clean—
And though we know he loves us when
the winter nights grow cold,
I can’t blame him.
The windowsill littered with fur,
As every warm, lazy summer day,
From out in the backyard you see
two curious yellow eyes,
trying to remember the smell
of freedom.

Such a grave silence
that's come between you and I,
growing like cancer.

I gild myself
in a sheet of
plastic, thick enough
so that no one
can see through…

Like an Easter egg shell;
I let them hollow out
the sloppy insides,
and paint my delicate skin.

I am no individual, I am
cultivated, harvested,
like the simple product I am.
Protect me: my flesh is delicate,
They’ll throw me away
at the first sight of a crack.

You consume my comrades,
But I am lucky—
I am now but a pretty little shell,
Painted pink and lush to conceal the sallowness
of my frail and immaculate skin.

I love you
irrationally, without reason,
And no matter how I try to cure myself
of you,
My eye stays drawn to the outline
Of your worn face and dissonant mind,
Your flaws that remind me that
We are all human—

I shouldn’t love you with this
hemmed up heart
I’ve let you destroy,
then sew back
so carelessly together
So that every stich, every oozing
Drop of messy adhesive keeping me
was by you.

And there is no rational reason
I should still love you,
and not the man who has not the heart
to ever intend the slightest of sin…
The pale angel who never deserved
some dysfunctional adulterer ,
who remains drawn to the dark and hateful
lust, of her favorite demon.

And perhaps us sinners deserve eachother;
I’ve grown to watch you live off of ***** by the
bottle and your abused old guitar—
And never could I pull myself together to fit
my shattered edges of disarray
into the blunt puzzle of their world.

They decry us in the absurdity
of our very existence,
A drunk and a misfit, children of a lesser
creation, as we stand against the bitter winds of hate.

You and I grew
up by the outskirts
of their society, with no other
choice, but to observe…

We pretended to hide
from a cruel
and indifferent world,
that was never looking
for us to begin with.

Turbulently, we grew
into erratic teenagers,
pillaging our world
with a vengeance.
My youthful rage dulled
with the waning of age, but
you never ceased to seethe.

I stumble by a lake
to find you there;
flinging pebbles to break
the surface, distorting
the reflection of yourself
you’ve never wanted to see.
In the settled water I greeted the
uncertain face, solemn as I was
to share a likeness…
And hesitantly I asked you
what brought you here.

We both said nothing
(we knew you had nowhere else to go)
All we could tell the world
they stole from our tongues;
The reflected face distanced her glance
from you, an aloof and bitter woman
of the rest of society,
and beyond your bent knees
the water had never settled,
revealing cryptic shards
of a jigsaw puzzle face.

Yet in that water I had drowned
a part of myself;
my animosity, and pride
against a mechanical world
that never pitied me…
Your vengeful heart
stayed forever smoldering,
never forgiving a careless god
that let you suffer, blinded
by the walls surrounding
your lesser world.

I locked my Heart up in a musty closet,
we assumed it wouldn’t mind.
It had exhausted itself to ruin, resigned
to a useless slab of meat.
My brain muttered the order to me, sighing
As it sat counting to its day of demise.
Wallowing in a puddle of ennui,
Decaying, incarcerated within
the dankness of the skull.

We suffocated my Ambition,
short after seeing the dull, hopeful light
Which was then washed away
by the blinding god-rays of the All.

We staggered away to behold the spectacle,
Came back astonished, undermined…
Our bodies were then withdrawn from us,
our existence reduced to molecules

We saw a speck of ourselves on the Universal Map,
Like idiots we stared in disillusionment
when we knew that all our feeble Eyes could ever see
were mere inches in the legend.

I found you leaning over the balcony,
gazing into a world that was becoming
an illusion to you, smoking a shrinking
cigarette.
I never knew you as one to smoke,
But I suppose that everyone
Has their surprises to the world.

Your eyes burnt like coals, staring until
everything before you smoldered to dullness,
the intensity
of your gaze could burn
down any hopeful living thing
to an ashen pile of decay.

Your disillusionment brought you here,
guided by
the optimistic notion, that the other side
of the garden bears riper fruit.
You traveled here with weary eyes, your hope
diminished to find the same dust
of your native dystopia
lingering on the bottom of your shoe.

I could feel you burning from here,
Your sweat glistening face lit
by the cigarette flame and moonlight,
Your shoulder tensed by the touch of my hand,
As you said to me,
How the stars seemed so close,
glowing together,
seeming inches apart in the sky,
But they were oblivious of eachother,
as they burnt unmindfully
billions of miles away.

I stood by you feeling the refreshing bitterness
of the cooling Autumn air,
oh, how we stood inches apart, you and I,
and had since grown billions of miles
away…

I know that once you escape the clutches
of your overbearing Arab parents,
it will be something of a rabid dog
unchained
running from the mercy of his master.

You’ll experience a bold new world
they tried to conceal from you,
(in both ends of the extremes)
But perhaps after late night meals of
canned vegetables and ramen, you’ll
develop the lingering taste
in your mouth
for Mama’s Kenafeh.

You say you’ll never miss them,
but somehow I know
that one day,
be it just when you step into your dorm
or when you’re thirty-five and
pondering how to raise your own children--
you’ll have the vague intuition,
that perhaps your parents only wanted for you
what they never could have had,
before you dismiss the idea as nonsense.

Adulthood is never initiated
on a birthday,
the obligation to pay the bills,
or even the freedom
to eat those two desserts,
but rather when you realize that childhood
has been terminated—the stage
where you sigh and suppose
that magic was just an illusion
when you finally see how
the real world operates.

In a world divided by borders and tongues,
where exceptions exist by chance,
little do we think of those we’ll never meet
that we would hold dear,
had we lived in their country
or spoken their language.

I don’t see the same curiosity
in those once intent and happy
eyes, youthful spirit drained
by the aging of disappointment.

The boy who once took me
into the vast and curious night
Has adjusted to the daytime notion
That no one can live forever.

I still recall who you were
Before I thought you disappeared,
You journeyed long into what you thought
would be your inspiration—
You returned with vague reluctance
wearing a disheartened gaze;
the stare of the boy who sought his ways
in the life he prepares to live,
how in his disillusionment he cursed
the world in the core—yet he says
that all is well.

I think you once told me, that no one
is born a cynic.
Bitterness to the world
Is all but an empire
of crushed ideals
you once held dear,
my misanthropic friend.

I dreamt I found you in the meadow—nestled
happily in the forgiving arms
of mother earth.
You had since grown accustomed
To a life of wilderness – of hummingbirds
and weeping trees, the dirt
and sunshine, and
on your knees
you prayed, to your newfound god
of the soil.

I beckoned you near, and you froze
Unsure of the language of the verbose
world you came from
and had forgotten.

I once walked carefully, step by step
Avoiding the savage mud,
yet instead
I ran toward you, and let
my garments
of civilization tatter.

Please tell me why I stand here, for I
have forgotten,
And perhaps, if You’ll forgive me,
it’s better that I stay here…

He stands against the wind and smiles—
a boy of intuition against the harsh world
of concrete.

You might find him waiting, standing alone
along the sidewalks
with his trusted old guitar
Unjudging eyes merely wander—
watching fellow lives simply be.
His sing-song voice
speaks joy into the world,
never telling anyone
how they ought to live.

He says he knows nothing of the world, but
I’ve never met one more wise, than one
who denies his ego, just letting
the world go by.

Looking for the lost prophets
that seemed to slip right through the sand
through the cracks of time…

My thoughts of you bring a warm sensation
that I shouldn’t have
You’re my Peter Pan, something to fall upon
when the real world is null and grey.

I still think of you from time to time
and remember how I felt
when I’d talk to you for hours and hours
About particularly nothing at all,
my mind said.
But my heart found a reason to be
in you
And then you went
from my little world
where the sky was always grey and
saw its first glimpse of blue
from the light of your eyes,
shining into me.

It’s a lonely existence when you think about it,
I’m surrounded and isolated all at once.
Is there anyone in this world
who shares these thoughts that
echo in my mind?
I still think of you,
but why?

You disappeared and came right back
So sheepishly, as though I’d never welcome you
back into my door, into a dusty house.
I kept a spot open for you, and everyday
I stared at the empty space that
needed to be filled
in this quiet house
in my quiet mind, that needed someone
to reassure me
that I’m still human.

I still think of you even though you probably don’t of me.
I thought those thoughts when you walked away,
and then you saw me.
You saw me standing there all alone,
trying to fill the spot you left behind
they didn’t fit, no one could.

I thought for sure you’d forgotten me, but
it was as though I saw the ghost
of you.
You were just as I remembered,
and when I told you
of that empty space I tried to fill
and that artificial fluff I tried to stuff inside,
you told me
of all of those nights
you stayed up
And thought of me.
How you’d stare at my letters,
all the things
I’d given you.

I still think of you,
But I hate to think you’ve left a second time,
third, fourth, fifth?
I lost track when I accepted,
that I was going to live this life alone and old,
my dear Peter Pan.

When I was young, I was told
that deep beneath our feet,
was a land I’d be sent to,
if I didn’t clasp my hands and speak
to an invisible man who lived in the sky.

I inquired softly what this land was?
They snapped, I’d burn and scream
in a cloud of smoke, fire
and a bearded red man would torture me
I shut my mouth as I wondered,
Why?

Shaken, I knelt by my bed and
apologized for myself—
my thoughts and humanity.
How would standing within these stained-glass walls,
I wondered, make me more a saint,
and how would a magic book
bring sanity?

I had a friend, once
that only I could see.
He followed me wherever I walked
in innocent company.
But they scorned my imagination,
how could I believe?
This silly made-up nonsense
that I couldn’t even see

Funny they said that,
because as I recall,
they handed me a Bible, and told me,
of some magic Jewish zombie
that saved humanity.

We always talk about those who
you will never forget as long as you
exist, but
I’m thinking of someone
who I’d never  be the same without
if you didn’t approach me
that one lonely night,
sliding into my life like
a lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle
all those years ago.

I've found a wonderful man,
everything I could have wanted--
one who listens, who tells me I'm still
pretty, even if I forego makeup and
revealing clothing.

One who straddles the fine line
of being chivalrous and never sexist,
protective but never possessive.
I cannot help but wonder,
what some recluse like me
could have ever done to deserve him.

Down to the details, even--
his shiny black hair, his innocent smile
(And I've always had a thing for foreign men...)
While I stumble as I walk, shrivel under the sunlight
and stutter on my words.

I've likely grown spoiled by him, and when I tell him
how much of a catch he truly is, he only says,
"There are plenty of other nice guys out there,
I'm nothing special."

Oh, Saleh, I could only smile, and
repress the memory
of what other 'nice guys' before you
have done to me.

A sensitive creature-- every touch leaves a mark
you hide in the shadows, observing...
You see a world that frightens you, a world so stark--
the black and white shocking to your greyscale.

You run through the forests to clear your thoughts
running into Mother Nature's arms of soil
you forfeit the existence you've accumulated,
Screaming as your brain begins to boil, but

All I can say, is tell me what your eyes are seeing?
Don't throw away the thoughts you leave behind.
Tell me now, how this ugly world must look,
to your beautiful mind?

In high school
we learn of logarithms, iambic meter
how to balance an equation between zinc oxide
and excess hydrogen gas--
only to find there was no reaction to begin with.

We're told colleges get to know you
through three letter acronyms-- ACT, SAT, GPA
And the students they want know everything
that they'll forget once they turn thirty.

Little do we realize
that if our Geometry teacher were to write an analysis
on the coexistence of good and evil in To **** a Mockingbird,
he would likley receive a "D" under the scrutinizing eye of
the honor's English teacher

Nor do we see that the art instructor would freeze in her tracks
faced with an assignment filled with the insufferable fate of
chemical stoiciometry

Socrates once said that the youth today
will be the demise of civilzation.
We contradict our parents, are smug in the face of authority
and tyrannize our teachers.
Funny he said this roughly 2,000 years ago--
I think my dad said something like that last year.

But, until the day we grow up to pay taxes
and marry someone we despise,
we're just stupid teenagers.

If everything were to crumble to pieces
And civilization would no longer be
I think I’d still be fine
Right here,
In the absence of you
With the world all before me

Hazy purity of morning
Beautiful uncertainty
Of the unblossomed bud of day

Walking down familiar halls
Searching for the face I love;
The clean scent of sanctuary
On freshly showered skin

I smile worth a hundred words
And keep my lips in silence.
Your hand in mine,
Our interlocked arms,
Together, you and I.

And as we go our separate ways
Our days unfolding the innocence
of optimistic morning sun,
we join again
in weary afternoon

The smell of your hair,
The hollow of your shoulder,
The light of my waning day.

And as evening ages, side by side
we sleep in nighttime’s shadows
before the sun awakens the sky
as we rise to the clear of morning.

Soft summer evening light
Warm potent silence in dimming air
A backyard bonfire warms my hands and
caresses my face,
Its smell intoxicating.
A strange emptiness stings when I know
that every serenity of life is worthless
without the warmth of your skin
radiating into me.

Love isn’t found in the throes of passion
under satin sheets,
Nor in the glisten of diamonds and gold.
Not even in the lips that tell you,
that you are their rising sun.
All that can be fabricated is worthless
when you find
that love is the silent voice listening
when you cannot bear the world any longer.

From the inception of our lives,
once sheltered in the warmth of the womb,
we wake to bright hospital lights
and our groaning mothers.

From the inception of our days
cocooned in the comfort of the blankets,
we rise to the nakedness
the frigid morning air.

Alarm clocks routinely ending
comfort we were never aware of
until we knew the bitterness
of being exposed to the world.

I lost my faith in art—
So I burnt every unfinished creation
haunting me in this paint-stained room
to ashes.

I lost my faith in poetry—
And I stare at my 3am
Purgings of the soul
With a sigh.

I lost my faith in beauty—
And I don’t know what to look into when
I see your innocent eyes

And yet I remember how a painting
Can halt my every knowledge of reality
And yet in me there must somewhere lie
The silent fire of passionate words
And still I remember the warmth of your shelter
In the bitter winter months…

But I’ve lost my faith in myself—
And I simply gaze at this world in no direction.

My little flower,
still a seed
planted gently in the ground.
Soaking up the water
Basking in soft, most soil
waiting.
Sprouting surely, you only teethe
through the dirt.
You’re no flower yet,
But I know your bud will bloom.

Your petals will be bright and lush;
your stem so green and strong.
You only peek through the soil,
but there are careless feet and snarling animals
to take you away.
But never worry, I’ll stand near
and keep the weeds at bay.

You pretty little thing
Sprouting yellow from the grass,
so delicately…
Staring into the sun
Rooted from the soil,
Declaring to the world that spring has come.
Careless feet trample you over;
The fate of all innocence,
bent and limp against the dirt.
They call you a ****, but it doesn’t stop you
from spreading your graceful seeds,
the wind as your messenger.
Hoping your words of hope wander
to the vicinity of fertile ground
As you wither back into the grass.

I swear I dwelt alone
Amongst a million other faces
In a city full of every opportunity
I cannot attain

I suppose you’ve found a native-born foreigner
And you’ve stopped by long enough
to hear
A voice too quiet speak…

I’m not anything phenomenal,
Black jacket-clad with a caged-up heart
I suppose you’ve found a kindred soul,
Just a stranger in a familiar land.

Tell me again why you are here?
I’ve heard every other reason,
They all end the same…
Fifteen years I’ve lived cold
and alone
With patches of warmth that
Only faded away.

Would you mind staying here,
my dear only friend?
I have empty ears that hunger for
words.
I have empty hands that clutch for
warmth.
An empty heart that could use your
touch, but
A mouth so full, they stitched it shut,
a tongue overflowing with words.
A brain that defied them, so they
Called it dumb, but
Could you please stay
and listen?

I couldn’t help but notice the difference
between the smile worn before a camera,
and how one’s face upturns
much more beautifully
in that split second of joy,
before vanity adjusts the angle.

A jaded mind clogged
with empty thoughts
on an hour I should be sleeping
With sleep-heavy eyelids,
and an uneasy buzzing silence.

Life so fragile annihilated
Before we have time to double-take,
Or those who leave claw marks
As death drags them by the toes
(Clawing away the face of fate,
How did you survive?)

Shivers tiptoe through my bones
And all the faces
of the overlooked seem to surface…

The perils of a ghost's existence,
Staring upon the same cycle
of human foolishness.
Seeing your mistakes and trials
re-enacted for you to never forget.
(wandering, observing in
the shadows of man)

Human tears and stomach aches
to distract you from your fears
when they stare you in the face,
as you lower your eyes and weep.
What are we as humans,
crippled from birth, crawling
with innate self-importance
annihilated by chance?

They sing their songs to console themselves
Looming in their lonely rooms;
Transparent, feared by man
Watching them meet their fate.

You’re beautiful in the skin
But ugly down in your bones
(And for that I despise you.)
You flash a rehearsed smile
And let them think you otherwise…
Foolish men love a crazy girl,
And off the glares of jealous women,
you feed.
I anticipate the day you’re wrinkled and ugly
(Though I will be too.)
But perhaps I could relish in the fact
That you no longer can hide behind
your ugliness
in pretty skin.

I wrote you a letter addressed to nowhere
(Wherever you may be)
And waited in my solitary room.
Foolish that I would expect a reply,
As it sat in a thickening sheet of dust
In a rusting mailbox.
(As I sat stupidly in idleness)

I came home one day, my faith dissolved
(Never once did I think your face)
To find a note tacked on the door.
Collecting my sinking heart, I stared into the ink
vacantly, before they became words.

“Every apology,” it read, “Could never define
my guilt.”
A cynical sigh left my lips, but my eyes kept reading…
“And I understand if you want to hear of me no more,
but read these words before you crumple this in your fist.
I remember this house, engraved into my mind.
I know you’re sitting in that lonely room.
I’ll tell you what happened, all those years
and maybe things could be the same again.
But first, could you please unlock your door?
                                        From, Nowhere.”

The sorrow of humanity;
Paradoxical in that we believe
that the grey in our heart,
the dull ache of the soul
is contained within our borders.
Mankind’s common blindness,
But perhaps the poets and the saints will see…
Exclusion of human sorrow within the self,
the universal human condition.

The bitter chills of winter
Seem little more than a breeze
Within you

Silence of the waning day
Serenity of the cooling night
Warm breath on the nape of my neck
A warm soul in my armspan
Where scattered pieces of life
Become whole

The shining smile that I love
Not so much about the upturned lips,
on a beautiful face.
Rather, the light in your eyes
The glow.
How love within reaches out to your soul
and in its delicate voice
it whispers.
How it heals us so sore from the world,
With every whisper, every hint of light
Peace finds its way in our corner of the world.

The innocent child
Wide eyes stare into a world
So beautifully unknown

He hides you from the world
and guides you by the hand
He speaks to you in softness
as you forget everything
outside his house near the river

We have our special crawlspace,
where the world forgets where we are
He smiles gently as you speak
without even thinking.

With your soul in the palm of his hand
he shows you to the water
the evening sun highlights your faces,
his skin glows in the light like honey
As the faded winter sun smiles upon
the young rosebuds waiting to bloom
In the springtime.

When the old man of the night
Dwindles into newborn dawn,
The conjoined soul feels a sigh
When the river must be crossed.
As he, still guiding your hand,
Navigating your soul
kisses you goodnight.
With a reluctant wave,
You watch him disappear;
Engulfed by the mists
On the other side of the river

New snow scattered
upon this old, tired street
We start the cycle again.
New hope planted
into the still, frozen ground
We wait.
Perhaps come springtime,
like the exception to a truth,
sprouting between
receding islands of snow,
its flower may bloom again.

Superhero man
Defier of all odds
The world’s a symphony
A guitar chord
A melody
Everything is song

Buried away for all the years
Slowly, surely unearthing
Through the cracks
I see a familiar face
yet worn from the world

Sobered by truth
Flattened by reality
But in there somewhere lies
a glimpse of optimistic youth
That shines through
within every note

Music man, impossible man
Laughing in the face of
probability

You smile at me
and somehow the world is serene
Somehow
the world forgets the debts I’ve left unpaid
Reality finds patience as he waits by the door
(Though I can only faintly hear the rapid knocking)
But he can wait for now
He doesn't know the light of your glow
Blind by his piercing, judging eyes
Oh, if only he could see

There’s an angel smiling at me.

Fire is only as warm
As chilling is the air around
Water is only as quenching
as dry is the tongue it falls upon.
Those who savor every morsel
And beg for every bite upon their knees
One can only taste the sugars of nectar
When you **** the flower dry
Of every sweet, salvaged drop

Those of us who release the stiches binding our lips
And taste the first rush of crisp, cool air against our tongues
Once the first note breaks, the sound that permeates the air
stuns us.
The liberated cry bursting from our lips
feeling so foreign to our muted tongues
Forces us to pause
And listen…
The familiar buzz of silence is all amongst us
and it isn’t too long before we realize
That our ancient silence has been broken
And the grey air once again is filled with
the aura that beams
The glow that brightens the world
When you sing until your lungs bleed
about how you feel

The magic of the first
leaves our ****** hearts a flutter
The second pushes the residue away
Sweet words sour to a distant mutter
Keeps the wishes of our cooling hearts at bay

From the marrow of my bones
I wanted to stare you down
Absorb your every detail
Witness your every movement
But with only the satisfaction
That came from flickers of a gaze
To negate your suspicion,
I looked away

I bid you farewell, my dearest friend
So very sorry it all had to end
(I don't know who I am anymore)

I'm leaving you today
To keep it all at bay
If you see me, don't say hello
(I don't know who you are anymore)

I'll journey long, singing a song
Of what I'll hope to find
I'll breathe the air
And no one'll dare
To remind me of what I left behind

I'll remember you in fondness, I suppose
But don't expect much more
(I don't know who we are anymore)

In our own vanities, we drown
And beneath our skins
the delicate insides rot

The world has divided in two:
Those who do, but shed the blame
and those who carry its burden

With plastic smiles rotting on our faces
And hollow words upon our tongues
The shield we bear to keep our humanity at bay

Why would we be deceiving
our fellow human beings?
Staring at eachother without seeing
Hearing our words without listening
Blind and deaf, mute and dumb
Numb to our world in its every essence

I stand here
Open, with every thread of security within me unwound
The bitter words upon my tongue have been swallowed
Rendering a vacant mouth dry
With all the world ready to spill from me
With every tear contained within
I gaze at you in silence

(So is that alright?
Take it from me, rip it from my feeble fingers
Don't steal it, don't take it for yourself
You've "lived a charmed life,"
haven't you?
Don't lie to me, don't uproot the little truth
that I seem to know
Skirt chaser, *******, womanizer
Great to know that I was only points to score
in the game you play
     So is that alright?)

I never thought it’d be me
The naked doll of plastic
Tossed consumer to consumer
*******
***** bucket
Who belongs to everyone
Except herself
So, **** me baby
You wouldn’t be the first
Don’t try to please me, I won’t feel it
Just use me up
‘till I’ve nothing more to give

Hello again, my dearest friend
I’ve come to talk with you once more
Shivering still from the stormy cold
Chaos that resides from beyond your door

I wiped my feet on your humble mat
Hung my hat upon the coat tree
To find your smile so ever warm
Seated beyond the door

I returned what I could of your glowing charm
(Oh! How could I ever reflect that light?)
Withholding impending words
within my grinning lips, I sat myself down
And looked you in the eye
I could have told you anything
but I was content with silence

There was a certain face today that did not return my usual gaze into the mirror. She was a faded, sore woman; one who saw the world through dull eyes and assessed her surroundings amongst a static hiss of white noise. She followed my gaze only vaguely, her frame worn thin as pale, sallow skin clung loosely to the bone. Behind a frayed curtain of an unkempt mane, perhaps there was the smallest trace of a youthful beauty hidden behind her decrepit, hardened shell, a trace that exposed itself discreetly and seldom. I told myself in vain that I did not know this worn woman, that the dull gaze she stared with under no circumstances belonged to my own face. Surely, I thought in a mindset detached, This woman’s misery is mere stranger to my own.

Stranger. The word comforted me, knowing that this wretched, coarse woman, was nothing to me but a stranger, staring coldly from the mirror so grimly into my eyes.

Among the depths of the deepest sea
Beyond the realms of vicinity
Every breath of air sighed through delicate lips
Every sensation in curious fingertips

Young hearts afire in the midnight air
What more to desire than flesh so fair?
Shrouded in secret and always discreet
Who knew forbidden fruit could taste so sweet?