I caught glimpes of
Unzipped veins in
The swirls above and
Skin cells falling
Around my head and
I shed off the dead atoms
Smothering my weathered lungs and
My flesh is enslaved to
Alluring beasts with
Spirals in their irises and
They engrave a lattice on my tongue so
Crimson fluid saturates my chin but
The unzipped veins twisting the
Neurons in my brain causes
Me to taste your lips when
I sample my oozing blood and
Snakes are slithering up my thighs and
Splitting & expanding encasing me in
Gore and warmth but
I will not
Survive this time.

I could toss my cares over a rainbow
Let it hang there a while and dry out its sorry behind
As I squeeze some slices of brackish time to research the deliberate contours of your patience
Swerving its way past concealed match sticks
Bend at the so definite behest of none.


Slurring backwards
Tentative graphica
Huge baskets of winding fun
Sketchy image pencilled in, for now
Details come later in -------- a terminal
(hopefully)


Charcoal drawings offer the sweet sound of breaking cumulus and sudden wax of orange
come to life on a sullen bed of love apples
shapes are p-p-p-pulled to painstaking proportion
deep lines stippled drastic
dragged along on unwieldy wagon strokes
       Art never really tastes ink but celebrates ephemerae
yet trapping half understood and beautiful pictures
beneath mocking glass panels
smudged with such deep knowinggggg


You can do something to stop this **** blood impasse
beset more so with counterfeit decline
blind bull rage too ready and bloodthirsty acts bay
half crippled and on its knees, how your land cries
see the (over)spill of rightly invective remain unresolved
  

See the deprivation at the lake
all gall thirsty, yet none to drink
just a hapless event smarting  
On a downward cyclic turn
no more will sing voices when old gripes unheard
scream in the long, red lines bulleted across that holy floor  
albeit the wicked general holds the trussed up cards
he won’t bother scraping the dried salt of kin later
it grows ever more in sad mounds on the little green book
awaiting missing miracle


inflections of a restless mind
within the ***** creep
retorts from peerless craft forge  
entangled moans in briars and sundry
resort to savour within disyllabic silence
  
Can you but count the ways in which these coins of seeking do ****** across
an afflicted floor of red lines to an exculpated heart, un(cor)rected ?
Unprocessed miracles are items of constant bewonderment in duress living

Well,
people never ask about what I love,
what I hate,
It seems that "I" have to fade
it seems that "I" is not important
because "I" is Palestinian.

I'm not allowed to work,
I'm not allowed to get proper education,
I'm not allowed to talk,
I'm not allowed to speak of liberation.

They call me a refugee,
but, dear, I am a slave.

I'm not a terrorist
I'm not blinded by religion
I'm not blinded by traditions
I'm only human
I have no liberty
because of my nationality.

You, who call our for human rights,
Am I not human?
Am I not a victim of insignificant fights?

Well,
All I know is that I'm alive,
I exist.

So keep your prejudiced selves away from me,
and let me be,
let me be free.

I am only a human
a human
I have a beating heart
I love art
I have ambitions
and dreams
stop shattering me
because of a nationality.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.
Questioning my sanity,
If you will.
You don't realize what you've done,
Do you?
You don't see what you've done.

Remember the time
You told me about when you were almost struck by lightning.
And then,
The results.
Your superpowers,
As you called them.
You'll never know how thankful I was for those
As the years went by.

You told me about the ghosts.
The little girl and boy
Who came to you for help.
She died in a barn,
That used to be in your backyard I think,
And needed your help.
She was your favourite, I could tell;
You talked about her a lot.
She slept in your bed sometimes, you told me.
But you couldn't communicate with her,
So you couldn't help her.
And that was that.

I told you about my ghosts.
My grandparents I've talked to,
And whatever evil is living in the guest room.
How my cats slink around my house
Like they're still alive.
Like the sounds I hear for no reason
And no explanation.

You envied me for that.
That I could hear them.
Because all you could do was see.

We were the only ones who believed each other.
Even when we hated each other,
And that was a long span of time,
We could still bond over this.
When no one else listened,
We did.
We were the only ones who understood.

I guess it's obvious enough that the phrase
"I see dead people"
Was tossed around a lot between us.
Because we could
And we knew it
And it scared us
And we loved it.

Until you stopped loving it.
And you claimed insanity.
You told me it was all in your head,
That you'd made it up
Because you're crazy.

So,
That's why  I've been calling myself crazy lately.
Because the only thing I trusted to understand me
Is telling me he's insane.
Who's to say I'm not the same?