The day is wet
A chilly feel
November skies are gray

But still the sun
Shines in my heart
Your love takes me away

The calender
May say one thing
To me it's summertime

For every day
Is beautiful
Since I know you are mine

Stopped
By
Pain in the back
Stilled
By
Mucus and head aches
Silenced
By
Laryngitis and miscellaneous fears

Stopped. Stilled. Silenced.

Filtered sun through mid-day blinds
Distilled thoughts of shallow mind
Yield
Little light or clarity

Sheets damp with familiar musk
Covers twisted into a personal husk
Descent
Into loathing and disdain

Stopped. Stilled. Revealed.

In sickness and in health
The union within of lies to self
Broken
Stolen
Dying…yielding

We* often *Owned, what We don’t Own.
Being  Possessive, We become Invasive.

                 - We often Neutralize, what We can’t Realize.
                     - Full Realization comes after the Actual Destruction.
Creating our own Ending.



*© Pax

If you were a spring without flowers,
probably that all my trees
would be lethargic.
If you were a wind coiling without leaves,
possibly all my trees would be already fallen,
and if you were a sky without its sun,
certainly no other tree could
germinate to grow from seed.
And I could not be able to exist any longer,
for I am the forest.
But in the snowy winter that would follow,
and in the churches with empty bells,
not ringing in the frost,
God would be still existent.
But you were my springing spring,
my whispering leafing wind
and my sunny sky.
And, in the winter,
in your absence,
I did not cease to love you while
craving for the melted snow,
craving for the blossomed trees,
craving for the ringing bells...

Many lives many pasts
Many girls many romances

Many broken hearts
Many broken dreams
Many broken promises flowing down with the stream

Many fake people
Many fake smiles
Fly with me let's reach the sweet paradise

Do you think you know what life is about?
Please help me understand

Because a long time ago i chose to close my eyes and wait for my death

Life is an illusion though it seems real

All what really matters is our dreams and fantasies


Words Of Harfouchism

You're gone.
I stumble through the dark.
Thoughts explode, lighting the dark with mocking tones. I would gladly die to call your name, to reach the unreachable but it's too late to draw breath.

A scream escapes my throat, tiny against the lack of you it dies without echo.

I am alone, afraid of my need for your comfort, afraid of my quickening heartbeat, afraid of  myself.

I am the coming storm.
Shadows dance in my wake, wrapped in lace from the gowns of the jilted, they drink my tears as their music turns tainted flesh to stone.

I am nowhere.
Here reality becomes transparent. The illusion of happiness and love  revealed to me in rapid flickers, a tickertape parade of twisted lies lurking in the folds of lovers limbs.

You're gone.
I stumble through the dark.
Tonight I will give myself freely to the depths, in the hope of no return.