Winter undoes
the brittle buttons of
her faded dress
in a pearlescent sun

steam hazes
the first lines
intoxicated duress.

dreamer dreams of
hobo’ing peaches.
awkward conversation:  

“trade a threadbare
satchel, down at heel boots
for running water
and contacts.”

Panopticon mornings
Panopticon nights.

Human experience
Living on a spiraling floating ball
Mysterious, and alone
Within, a race
Who create their own downfall
Impervious to our origin
Everyone has differing
Explanations

We **** our neighbor to get across
Our likely false viewpoint
Simply a peaceful expression
Of differing opinions
An excuse to
Validate your hatred
And play the victim
Refusal to connect within a sea
of difference
And see eye to eye

All the while we keep spinning toward
A hollowed out existence
Void of all purpose
But to defame in the name of
Righteousness
Pride eats away while the
Forgotten soul lies in wake
Our existence will begin
Redefining meaning

Lacking originality for the sake of
The trendy, glints of popularity
Temporary fame takes place of eternity
Everyone shall be the same
Brain rotted zombies
Attention span erased
Created addictions to
Bring forth unrequited distraction
Mass confusion
For the sake of their master plan

While they who led us astray
Who manufactured our disarray
Burrow beneath the ground
Letting us serve out their sentence
Take the blunt of their damnation
Thinking they're sound and safe
While we sit obliviously ignorant
Laughing at the one who's family was taken
Because we differ on a political spectrum
Meticulously crafted solely to divide

Vicarious are we, too dumb to see
When blood is shed
We all bleed red
It's time to rest your ego upon the ledge
Embrace our disparity, disengage
From convoluted tyranny
And see, our human race is coming to an end
At the hands of politicians
And those who puppet them

Flames will rise and tears will be shed
We shall stand in the face of death bereft
Unity will not be met, instead
We will place the blame upon another's head
Refusing to accept we're all victims
Equally conditioned to take artificial sides
Created to keep us compromised, blind and deprived
And lay the foundation for our own demise

I like my labneh
full-fat, whole-milk
heavy with promise,
soft as surrender.
Flaky sea salt
melts on its skin,
olive oil glistens
like desire in the sun.
A breath of za’atar,
a trace of mint,
a brush of thyme
and I am undone.
That’s how I like my lover
ripe,
reckless,
and impossible to leave.
Yummy…

As the clock of war strikes,
the echo of peace fades
into the dust.
Behold! Emerge eight swordsmen,
with blades all sharp,
shining as light dances in delight.
Two archers atop two horses,
whose hooves beat faster
than monsoon winds.
Two snipers hidden in shadows' clutches,
their eyes like hawks,
fingers tight on the trigger.
A pair of cannons aiming
at the center of the forces,
to the heart of the rival.
The queen, the sorceress,
with the intelligence
to destroy with her dark spells.
Upon the throne,
holding all power,
sits the mighty king.
The troupe of army in two rows,
standing at the edge of the
Chess Board!

I take it  
because the world was too loud  
too sharp  
too much  
and now it’s quieter  
but also  
less  

I don’t cry anymore  
which feels like winning  
until I realize  
I don’t laugh either  
not the kind that shakes your ribs  
not the kind that makes you forget  

I’m not drowning  
but I’m not swimming  
I’m just  
floating  
in a pool that doesn’t change temperature  
no waves  
no storms  
just still  

people say  
you seem better  
and I nod  
because I am  
technically  
but I miss the chaos  
the color  
the ache that reminded me I was alive  

I sleep  
I eat  
I function  
like a well-oiled machine  
but sometimes  
I want to rust  
just a little  
just enough to feel the weather  

I know it’s working  
I know it’s helping  
I know  
but I also know  
there’s a version of me  
buried under the dosage  
who used to feel everything  
too much  
and maybe  
that wasn’t all bad