I am halfway to becoming an artist,
someone who will have the power
to weave beauty at her fingertips
into true masterpieces.
However, the journey
is no longer one I can enjoy
as it has become a race;
I am halfway to becoming destroyed
and what scares me most
is I feel as if the killing
will happen sooner than the awakening.

We were there,
  but we weren’t

We took part,
  and we didn’t

There was war,
  with all affected

There was death,
  and some objected

There was music,
  we got lost in

Assassinations,
  left us frozen

Alienation,
  drove us inward

Graduation,
  for beginners

Half a century,
  now forgotten

Ten short years,
  in time begotten

Raged a storm,
  of hope and wonder

Alive today,
—a distant thunder

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Look at her.
The girl over there; she's happy, right?
Always laughing and always smiling.
She's like a little ray of light.
You've never thought to ask her,
"Are you feeling okay?"
because she seems like
she's happy everyday.
But little do you know,
everyday, she comes home
to an empty house.
Because it's empty,
it's her free time to just cry and shout.
Shout at the walls
for keeping in the sound of her cries.
She looks forward to the day
her body becomes limp and dies.
At night, she eats her homemade meal.
Then goes upstairs and turns the shower handle,
life no longer seems real.
She stands and silently cries,
her tears look identical to the water.
That way, her parents never worry
about their daughter.
She cries herself to sleep,
then goes back to school each day.
She walks through the doors,
glances at her peers.
"Goodmorning," you'll hear her say.
She says it with a smile on her face.
A smile you'd never second guess.
A smile you'd never think
is any different from the rest.

Loving you is like breathing;
it's natural, and instinct.
I do it every second of every day.
Without it I would die.

And being near you is like being under sunshine;
it's warm, it's bright,
it's beautiful and positive.
It causes everything to grow.

Listening to you is like hearing for the first time;
maybe like an orchestra,
where all different sounds intertwine to create a symphony.
Maybe a story, the description of a new novel,
and it's always bound to be your favourite.

Looking at you is akin to the first glimpse of sunlight during the rise,
and being mesmerized by the stars, all at the same time.
Such beauty could never be properly defined,
but I've found myself breathless in a trance when infront of you,
like looking at a piece of priceless artwork
that you're afraid to touch,
because no perfection should ever be brushed by human hands.

my mother
is always visible
speaking what she thinks is right
mostly I listen
she does not look like me
she is more talkative
she is always unambiguous
but we are alike
we have the same habits
we share books, clothes
and affinity for the same television characters
my art reflects my mother's art
and sometimes her, herself

Leaving your apartment
at 2 am never
gets easier.

I'm always expecting
to hear some words
you never said.

stay.
sleep here tonight.

But it's okay,
I guess;
Because we
are nothing more
than 2 strangers.

2 souls
sharing some hours,
pretending
it's only lust.

And by the way
it would be impractical
for us to fall in love.

Like the colorful patterns of a Persian rug
We watch our adventure unfold
Sometimes it's still and cold
Sometimes it's ...

You want so see the patterns as a whole
...
...
Green, white and a striking gold

I want to watch it flow down
Fast and rough like a rapid waterfall
Lose it as though I had it all
I watch the water drown

Our patterns met each other once
They crossed each other and came
Back again.