Dry tears accumulate
On the corners of my sleepless eyes
As my thoughts circulate
In my brains
Like old sweaters in washing machines.
My spirit is knocking on the doors of my mind,
Peeking through windows
Trying to get a signal,
Trying to do something
Screaming
“What the hell are you doing!?You’re going to **** us!”

It’s raining,
Inside me it’s raining;
Droplets of infuriated thoughts
And angry manifestos
Declaring that I’m unpleased with this world,
Unpleased of how it’s too small for my dreams,
Too tight for my overflowing self
And too narrow for my vision.

I’m a social claustrophobic,
Desperately attempting to get out of my social class
That is made out of four walls
Hate, prejudice, fear, and socio-economic dictionaries
That are set to define human beings.
I’m a lost pilgrim;
My compass is lying somewhere
In between the sand castles
Our father’s built for us
In this country on the shore;
In this country that drowns
Every time the moon decides to push away the water to its surface,
That clenches,
To the air that’s given to it
Split seconds after the moon changes its mind.

I can see the sunset;
But when the mind is not clear
One can never find clarity in a cloudless sky,
I can smell all kinds of spring,
But the scent reminds me of what I’m missing
Rather than what I am to find;
I’m busking in a starless sky,
I’m rotating around my words
Trying to avoid the meanings
Jumping over my reflections
Only thinking of one thing
“How the hell do we get out of this labyrinth?”