I wanna thank you like the world thanked the beatles for their music.
I wanna thank you like two lovers thanked the bees for such beautiful flowers.
I wanna thank you like the disco ball thanked the bee gees for their grooves.
And I wanna thank you like the pop culture thanked micheal jackson for his moves.
I wanna thank but i can't thank you enough, Well you've been there, And i swear my heart was a rusty old door crumbling to smithereens and each piece has felt the cold touch of the floor. But you were there for me like a trampoline lifting me so high when i can't lift myself up. Helping me fly whenever my wings got cut. Hearing me sigh 300km apart.
I wanna thank you and i can't thank you enough. For you being my only source of wholesomeness. For you giving me my first kiss . And never making me regret it.
I wanna thank you as hard as i wanna hold you cause you're so far away. I wanna thank you again for you to stay. Cause you can't leave me lost. For i love you the most.
I wanna thank you for being my blood. I wanna thank you for you being what every love song is about. To the world I wanna shout, that you are the most amazing person i've ever known.
I wanna say thanks cause thanks to you i could write this poem thanking you.
I can hear myself shouting it in my head in front of an audience measured by you.
I wanna thank you cause you're just too good to be true.

i wrote two long complicated poems.
and somehow couldn't understand them either with such complicated vocabulary.
until she said "i miss us"
and that was their summary.

there's a weird thing about this poem.
for some reasons i am unable to                      .

'tis not the therapeutic night i wished for.
'tis not the therapeutic reaction i hoped for.
'tis not the therapeutic approach i looked for.
'tis not the therapeutic hug i'm still longing for.
'tis not the therapeutic gaze i look for.
'tis not the therapeutic interest i anticipated to perceive.
'tis just me being naive.
no happiness should be linked to your love anymore.
even tho , you is who i'll always care for.
'tis not you but none can stop this personal blasphemy, not even me.

.
                                                        .
     ­                          .      
                                                             .
                                     ....

you're all mistaken, here's my statement.
i'm feeling rather vacant, by thy feelings i feel forsaken.
am i mistaken? here's my statement
i'm feeling rather insubstantial. by thy love.

'tis a love i adolize but my heart explained it in a way that i can't decipher.
thus these inklings seem consequently inconsequential.

'tis a love i miss, withstanding the hurdles that i too have to withstand.

i'm not mistaken, here's my statement.
thy love felt and feels rather righteous. but i feel rather unwell.

grant me a therapeutic night, or a therapeutic hug that's all i need.
i prayed..
god, accord her with tolerance and merriment so she can grant me some time to recover
i still pray..

and i'll be back longing your presence with a disturbing anticipation of thy feelings not forsakening me.

"cotton minds", yes cotton minds.
cotton minds generating dopamine with their childish brains down the cotton slides.
at the beach, a treasure is what every cotton mind finds.
but no sandpaper even with a vision that is greater could see it.
and when the day is over and it's time to go home, every cotton mind cries because of the lies of his hater, creater, lover, maker.
you guessed it, "the sandpaper".
cotton minds are childish, no sandpaper would understand them cause they'd rather see a fish on a dish rather than in the sea.
see? cotton minds are everywhere yet so rare, with a hope and a flarethat no sandpaper could every show.
show? yes.
a teeny-tiny show is what you're reading and with it you're having a nostalgic feeling of your previous cotton life.
in your mind you hear the silence, with stress and finance.
your old cotton mind melted until it's now sandpaper.
up many levels and your little angels became bigger devils.
flushed down your dreams and hopes and now we're all cotton mind killers.
right now as you're being told, cotton minds are more precious than gold.
it's something you can't own or hold.
something you need but on it you let your anxiety feed.
sandpaper could be a doctor, but when cotton he played soccer.
sandpaper could also be a dentist, but when cotton his dreams faded in the mist.
but we all know that sandpaper is a cotton mind fader.
once you have it you forget the happiness and the glee.
check your reaction and see.
sea? yes in a reminder of the sea, cotton is water, cooler, smoother, and better but weaker fellow than the hotter, cruel, yellow, denser and sandier sandpaper.

let us sleep, you and i.
with the kisses you apply.
we shall finally unify.
yea i'm your guy.
who loves that sparkle in your eye.
also i'm high ...

astronauts and spaceships, only to make sure we watch every eclipse.
in stress kicks.
sweaty fingertips.
eye contact.
apocalypse.

what do you see in tunisia's future? we always get asked that in a denial of our present.
i don't like that concept for me not to fill up my mind with more stressful thoughts.
is the present not satisfying enough for us to travel further to the future?
i see myself as a dancer, a guitarist, a pianist, a scenarist, a writer and an active thinking and responsible intellectual.
however these are no good concerning these unsatisfying conditions.
how do i see myself in the future? more precisely in tunisia's future.
i'm certain i'd be exactly one of those mindless spinless creatures guided by money and lust, having those peaceful moments at night when i think twice about what i used to do.
i wouldn't relate to anyone of my future enviroment and no one will look or sound the same in a denial that we are all suffering inside.
unsatisfied we lay down and believe the lies we tell ourselves.
i see those herds of zombies heading to their office, to their jobs, thinking about the tasks they were ordered to do.
creating another generation of dead walkers.
same way we were raised, we'll also raise our kids.
i see trees falling down in the future, animals being deprived of the freedom we had when we were young impeccable and cleanheaded.
with every fallen leaf, we made a decision we regret.
one more reason to grief.
the future is relative, my thoughts are negative.
in the near sorrowful future i already feel neglected, we'll all feel rejected.
from a deadly society, we're headed to a deadlier one.
to the ironic anti-social society.
in the future, inside an estuary of waste, i fix my eyesight up to the industrial foggy sky seeking a tiny glimpse of the stars, praying to escape this monstrocity.
my childish imagination creates this spaceship that lands right infront of my thoughts.
i prepare my answers knowing that these extraterrestrials are gonna quention our existence.
the image blurrs and the aliens fade away, "run" i'd say "leave, don't be a victim of this cruel globe"
i pity whoever joins us humans,
us humans, us tunisians, we'll be known by overlooking the valuable bonds.
friendship love and affection, wouldn't be holy and true anymore. would be just another ficiton written on pages, forgotten through the ages.
at a similar time, in a similar situation, hypocrisy would be contagious, trust would only be a part of our imagination,
thrown away by inhuman archers, i would rather die than to join those emotionaless marchers.
to all my future surrounders, admire, forgive, love, give, for the damaged souls.
enjoy, live, hurt, heal, close the slits cut open by the ruthless life knife, but try not to to relive.

where was i ? most importantly where am i ?
i've held onto escapism to the point that i can't get back in touch with reality.
that ferocious reality that feeds on broken dreams, a ferocious reality that i can't get along with, a ferocious reality that tore me apart mentally, a ferocious reality that killed consciousness, a ferocious reality that tied everyone down with it's inhuman traditions.
i"ve always had the tendency to seek other distractions. why are the walls moving? why's everything joyfully dancing? what's happening? what's my distraction ? most importantly, what's my poison?
here i am lost, seeing everything jiggle with a belly-ache.
i can barely see, living seconds, losing pride, with a thought of unhappiness that i can't shake.
am i unconsciously losing my mind? or am i consciously trying to?
i'm not trying to, it can't be true.
dear god,you left me with The Complex Nature of this Simple Posession, four walls and a roof.
you say that you are close, is close the closest star. walls against my word, i wonder who can listen if they're just shouts into the void. it's this cruelty that i try to avoid.
somebody guide me, since this liquor took over me. i thought it would help set me free.
and forget society's careless underdevoloped mentality,
i'm locked inside my brain, i pledged to never use my mind in vain and now i don't know where i am.
this can't be my fate, i was destinate a greater glory. dear self i'm really sorry,
for what i've become.
dear cold white walls stop dancing and sob for my misery. the same misery you said it'll fade away when i'm old, and now it became a part of me that'll always stay.
when i was yound all my parents did was to prevent me, now all my dreams are gone. society did the same and i don't recall being it's son.
i can barely open my eyes, but i can observe these silhouettes of men trying to comfort me.
"HELP!!" my word against their loud phrases that i can't understand.
"open your eyes"
"OPEN THEM"
"i can't"
"YES YOU CAN!"
they're gone, i'm left now with six double edged swords forming the perfect hexagon.
is it the six cheap litres of luiquor that i drank, or the story of six years of me ruining my life.
after feeling the stab of society's blunt and rusty knife, that stayed in my heart ignoring the tears i bled.
i'm alive what a tragedy, i can take my own life away isn't that a phenomenon.life goes on and on and i'm stuck. facing this inevitable oblivion after every sip i take. realising that the oblivion i am seeking is permanent. and i'm back again with memories of this monstrous reality.

i cry, i drink then die, replacing this sorrowful truth with a happier lie.

Opened my eyes from dreams of galaxies and dark skies. bird's tweets stopped by my ear. cause her breath was all i wanted to hear.
I watched her shoulders fall then rise, her skin was clearer than the sunrise.
I put my palms on her shoulders sensing the motion, "bless my lips with your skin" i said with a careless whisper.
i went up following her spine, esch kiss felt better then the one below.
Reaching her hair i stopped. inhaling her smell,which for years i memorized.
I can't stop here i thought, from kisses to bites i reached her neck. From my palm i felt a shiver, 'tis the hickeys i gave her.
She was definitely awake, with my eyes closed i didn't realize until i heard the shout of my name.
I gave her a short gaze as she got closer to my face.
thy image haunts me everyday.

i'm sorry but i can't be here anymore, at least for you.
it was an experience worth living for, at least for me.
i could've loved you more, i'm sure.
i opened my heart, for you.
you closed the door, at me.
one last time i wanna be known again by you, but don't let me be.
from a lover to a goner, at least i'm a besfriend again.
i couldn't bear it, i needed someone to **** that man.
that mindless, spineless, dying group of organs.
i dissapeared cause i hated that jacket, i didn't stop aching to see you in it and i couldn't hack it.
so i dissapeared..
i wonder, in our conversation's slumber, do you miss me?
do you still look for my stories? do you open your phone and look at pictures i sent?
"it's okay" it's what i said but not what i meant.
i did what seemed impossible for alot just to get a sense of your scent.
but you didn't love me at the time, though you were more precious than any dime.
"i miss you" is what i'll always say, but i don't think you'll bother reading.
cause these are the slits of my heart just bleeding.
8 feb 2019,  09:56

though you speak strawberries and icecream with a little confetti and a pink sunbeam.
your words can easily break my heart.

I could shout about you some puns that no one would understand, but that’s not what poetry’s about.
in syllables you can notice the completion or the drought, you could always doubt whether I’m writing from the heart or writing my mind out.
Truth  is, I’m using them together so you receive these words with a light but warm impression like a leather feather.
However each crumb of each phrase accumulates, eventually to the back of our heads to create that inevitable sensation of a guilty abandonment.
receive these words without worries and build these incomplete memories that in due course will complete you.

With aggression, straight forward not a single hint. What we had was legendary but definitely not innocent.
It was magnificently significant, and you were a participant in that scintillant ****** expression.
The look that cleared my defilement core. the one you adore.