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17h · 39
why does praying feel like begging
Sabeer Amin 17h
why does praying feel like begging
a prayer i would often repeat to myself as a child was-
“God, please give me the strength to face my problems”
praying was touted as this universal solution to any issue
that you could ask for anything and if God was merciful enough
and you have done good
He will grant it to you
i never felt like i was worthy to ask God for anything specific
that if i told Him i wanted this new video game coming out
my hands would melt touching my ps2 controller
because i put such a financial burden on my parents
so instead, i asked for strength
vague, but can be applied everywhere
what strength would a child need to face their problems?
that prayer stuck with me, i never ask God for anything
other than hope, something i’ve lost
what is an ant to a purported eternal light casting eternal shadows?
asking for material things, in a spiritual fashion
ironic isn't it?
prayer is encouraged
don’t ask for too much
if you ask for that one girl, who looks at you with a supernova in her eyes
and a winter’s mist in her heart, to love you back
you will be ungrateful, and smote
God isn’t a love potion, foolish of you to assume she will bring you any kind of happiness anyways
turned to dust,
inhaled into the sky
no need for strength anymore

i still repeat the prayer to this day
the problems remain, change form, grow, decay, are born anew
but the strength, i don’t think i’ve found it
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2d · 27
i think i was born guilty
Sabeer Amin 2d
i think i was born guilty
babies cry when they’re born,
it's a good thing actually
counterintuitive to what we would assume
a sign they’re healthy and ready for the world
my father likes to joke and say “they cry because they realize they’re born into an evil world”
there was a seed inside of me
festering, eating away at the insides of my brain
a hoarse, childish voice admonishing me because of my guilt
any mistake i would do, amplified tenfold
the inventor of the mirror poisoned my heart
my reflection embodied the hoarse voice, and everything was my fault
a tragedy, a family attacked and robbed in their homes by intruders
why did i picture myself as the victim and the perpetrator
i think i was ****** up
at a lake as a child, i threw a rock into the empty water
a head surfaced, and the rock struck them
they still don’t know it was me
an accident really, but its like i took the rock, with droplets of blood on it
stains that even the lake can’t remove
and i swallowed it whole
cutting my insides as it resided in my stomach
my acid isn’t strong enough to disintegrate it
i cried alot as a child, so much so that i think i have no more tears left
an empty reservoir, if i could cry blood i would
just to have that same sensation again, that comfort
i didn’t believe that i was deserving of good things
my life, permeated by these thoughts
maybe i have an obsession with martyrs
everyone wants their life to mean something
maybe i want to have a cause so badly, to make up for some sin
some trouble i got into as a fetus
whatever you want to call it, bad karma, a reincarnated fascist dictator
i owe it to my soul, to my spirit, and to myself as a child
maybe i’ll sacrifice myself to destroy every mirror on earth
only in ponds would you be able to see yourself
hoarse voices are muted in water.
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3d
first and last journal entry of a failed poet
Sabeer Amin 3d
first and last journal entry of a failed poet
if i am the pen, she is the ink
if i am a lion, she is my fangs;
she hated my metaphors
how many different ways could i write what she meant to me?
i think she got sick of being compared to the moon
or how she moves my heart like waves crashing onto rocks
there are no more words in my tongue that i can use to describe what i feel for her
she sees it as a curse
i don’t know what metaphor i could write, to ask her to come back to me
instead of writing my next magnum opus, something that could grab the attention of even the sleepiest soul
i stare at this rectangular screen, looking at the last message i sent her
a poem, not my strongest work
a last ditch effort, that if she read it, she’d jump through the screen
i’d kiss her hands, and she wouldn’t see the strain of my fingers, with words etched on my fingertips
but instead it sits there, collecting dust
like some antique, in a shop where no words live (there's another metaphor)
i left her with this
if i am the poet, you will always be the words
i think she hated my work, so the fate i resigned to her, of being my muse
maybe there was no worser fate than this
my ego sits on my forearms, and my love resides on my back
hunched, writing, crying, feeling, seething
i like to say i’m a failed poet
the person i wrote for, doesn’t think about me anymore
now my work is hollow, a facsimile of my thoughts
incoherent , rambling
if you are still reading this
i cherish and love you truly, and i wish that i was able to capture even a fraction of your smile onto paper
i like to say i’m a failed poet, i’ve run out of thoughts now
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4d · 14
why do serial killers leave remains in the forest?
Sabeer Amin 4d
why do serial killers leave remains in the forest?
decomposing, fertilizer
an altruistic killer
new plants grow from flesh
does it have my anxiety?
my oddly sharp canines?
when the creatures of the forest eat from me
will they relive my memories
a lion in a classroom
a caterpillar taking antidepressants
a bird mourning a love.
if i give my blood to water a plant
my life had meaning
a knife entered me, and i gained time
my spine extends as the trunk of the tree
off white, stands out from the green
there are six minutes of brain activity after the body is dead
whats the difference between neurons and chlorophyll
perhaps in the wilderness man turns wild
why do serial killers leave remains in the forest?
a chaotic mirror, compulsion to ****
nature is both a hiding place and my confessional booth
before i grew, my eyes met my killer
the glimmer of their smile in the darkness
their canines were sharp too.
Continue reading...
6d · 24
deuteranopia
Sabeer Amin 6d
deuteranopia
my eyes surveil an unconscious world
saturation, a curse
who cares if my blood is a deep crimson
or my veins a bluish hue
my sadness are clouds permeating a blue sky
pupils fear the eyelids
darkness is a danger
no color saves me there
the lens of my eye crack, reflect
they film all the mechanical details
robots moving, smiling:
all silver, all wiring faulty
my eyes are no different from a digital camera
i can never capture true color, nor true beauty
the red of a rose pierces my iris, and leaves its trail on the whites of my eyes.

her eyes surveil a waking world
deuteranopia, skewing her views
the rods and cones of her eyes rebelling against her sight
the red of blood and the green of grass blend into a singular shade
an olive, or mustard color, it’s not unpleasant
the sunset is painted differently
like God mixed different paints when He stroked his brush across the sky
the sun shines all the same
the brightness still leaves spots in her vision, and reflected in her eyes are the words
words i will never understand
the film of her eyes run out, constantly
black reels spool out of her eyes, like tears
but she smiles still
she can’t see the difference between a tomato and an apple
but the sweetness is still there
her lens have been cracked, but glued together
by the colors of her soul.

its blind to me
my eyes fade to static, while hers heightens in quality
perhaps it is why i have been staring at her,
while she stares at the sun.
Continue reading...
Jul 4
an angel walks into a diner
Sabeer Amin Jul 4
an angel walks into a diner
the empty seat across from you
only the dust particles, highlighted by the beams of the sun, sit there
the angel sits and its eyes blend the sunlight
you haven’t touched your food
each fry, getting cold and soggy from their tears
your burger, greasy and unappetizing, is still talking to you
avoid eye contact, it might make you hungry

your stomach despises food, it’ll scream out till your throat burns
taking care of yourself is a herculean task, the city noise does not care if your hair is unkempt
the laminated menu sits in front of you
each stain and fingerprint on it, a time capsule of laughter and joy
you ordered for two, but didn’t expect the angel to come
the waitress smiled when she heard the order, like she had heard it before
in a distant time, in a faraway place
unrecognizable, it’s not the place you are in now

the meal opposite of you has no consumer
yet you ordered it to feel something
hoping that they would come possess the food and speak to you through it
that if you ate it, they’d live in your stomach for eternity
but alas it was only an angel
who smiles softly
who eats the food there quietly

who thanks you for the meal, and leaves leaving only a picture
a picture of us, of you smiling, of when you were full of life
and i remember how you loved
there was no light nor stars in a room without you
i put the menu away, now stained with tears
the rays of the sun don’t blind as harshly
and it leads me to a pen and paper
it says write
you are now deathless in words
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Jun 13 · 42
the birds in heaven are carnivores
Sabeer Amin Jun 13
the birds in heaven are carnivores
i fear God
my parents speak of finding God in mundane things
they speak to Him through whispers
eyes closed, hands together
it was a scary sight as a child
i wanted to join them
but feared that i would do it wrong
that instead of my prayers being accepted
they would disintegrate
that the words before they escape my throat
would burn in my lungs
and smoke would leave my mouth
something unholy
that would linger in the air
suffocating anyone in my vicinity
fear that my prayers would cause the death of those i love
their well poisoned with my mold
God would punish me because of my imagined crimes
under His surveillance even the moths don’t chase lights
my words were weaker than others
i kept them down
mixing with the acid and half digested food
they never surfaced
i found God in love
or love was just a part of God
thorns off a rose plant
raw meat cut, blood trickling
the birds in heaven are carnivores
every desire bears fruit
love is paradise, locked away
it doesn’t appear to me
is it because i’ve feared God
in my prayers now the words don’t come
but my tears do, they sting down my cheeks
bystanders on my shoulders don’t wipe them away
or maybe they can’t
i have to get to heaven first, to love
to eat honey and experience ecstasy
human desires, is it earthly in paradise
do angels get jealous surveilling my mortal tears  
what is more divine
then her and i sharing a laugh
and when her hand lingers on my body
i fear God
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Jun 2 · 45
تقبرني
Sabeer Amin Jun 2
تقبرني
beneath the moonlit olive tree, may you lay me to rest
where dreams are cradled by the sea, may you lay me to rest

the waves carve our names in stone, as the tide erases time
if i must leave, in the words and metaphors of my poetry, may you lay me to rest

in the oases of the desert’s unforgiving, scorching heat
next to the flowers of my love that bloom in secrecy, may you lay me to rest

my feet, molded to the cool sands, lost beneath the stars
resorting to love as my compass, if it is my fate to cease to be, may you lay me to rest

each breath i have spent seeking you mixes with the simoom winds
the dust clouds my vision of your sun-kissed eyes, if you must flee, may you lay me to rest

the constellations dim, the stars have become weary of my longing gaze
for my heart cannot bear to outlive even the thought of thee, may you lay me to rest

ghostly apparitions test the strength of my ardor
even if my destiny is fraught with fear, and my prayers fail to preserve my sanctity, may you lay me to rest

i am lost in the desert of your heart; this life means nothing if you are not here with me
while the last wisp of breath slips from my lips and you are not there to receive it. in eternal desire, may you lay me to rest
Continue reading...
May 29 · 38
gargoyle
Sabeer Amin May 29
gargoyle
i was never pretty
but i could be
there’s a boy in the mirror
with puffy eyes and nails bitten too short
he carries an anger,
not a righteous anger, but a pitiful one
there is blame in his accusatory eyes
he raises his fist to the mirror but never punches
all he mutters is “i hate you”
three words repeated till they have lost meaning
but it hurts all the same
i stretch my hand out  
our fingertips meet on the surface and his gaze softens
a thin glass barrier divides our touch, keeping our fingers suspended in space
doomed never to meet
i wish i could tell him that he is deserving of love
that the world is at his every whim
there is only melancholy in his soul
and monotony in his movements
his eyes always drift to his body; it never looks right to him
a tinge of desperation and yearning stained his eyes
his breathing shudders as if the air has thinned
he hunches over, reminiscent of a gargoyle
stone heart and stiff muscles
his cries are mute but I feel the vibrations through our touch
it is only a mirror
i didn’t become pretty
but i could be.
oh i could be
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May 26 · 39
rome
Sabeer Amin May 26
rome
remus and romulus loved each other
or was it hate that founded the empire
when they suckled from the wolf, did they too become feral creatures
the calcium, intoxicating, and invigorating
did they notice their nails growing longer, and their canines sharper
did romulus **** remus because he would not stop growling
remus whispered indefinitely in his brothers’ ears
a comfortable sound, but one that fed the emptiness in romulus’ mind
that must be why he felt the need to **** him
to see his life leave his pale eyes
and feel warm liquid pooling under him
the knife silenced, and romulus with a clear head
numbly built an empire on the bones of his conscious
cain stabbed abel with a fire in his eyes
the hatred in his heart was so fierce that only abel’s voice was the one he heard
was it love that drove him to stab his brother in the back
the back that he spent many years following behind, as young explorers
he silenced abel, and God cursed him for eternity
quiet, yelled the moon to the sun
***** out the light that shines too bright into your window
cut the flowers at the neck of the stem, for the pollen dries your eyes
build your empire on the death of love
take this capsule
feel the bullet go inside your esophagus
the bullet that will cause the death of your heart
not fired out of any gun
but given to you by yourself
your conscious is stabbed in the back
canines dug deep in the neck of the one you loved
the thorns of a rose exist for what purpose
can you reconcile this ******
synapses blocked, stringy tendrils inhibit smiles
you now can only live, and rule you must
pray that your empire will not fall
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May 25 · 43
martyr
Sabeer Amin May 25
martyr
she is my idea of an angel
i hold her name between my teeth
shes afraid
it’s a poisonous thing to say
afraid that id clip her wings and leave her stranded
when she walks in, the rose petals bloom
my wounds heal
and her touch thrums like a hummingbird
her whispers latch onto my ribcage
and soothe my twice-beating heart
i am minuscule in this world, but she amplifies me
she fears pain
i fear losing her
she thinks im a martyr, that ive lived my cause
that somehow an angel isn’t important to a man
but my duty has always been her
drink the words that spill out of my mouth
nourish your plants with the soil of my body
my tears will water them, and my bones defend them
what else is love if not this
i know no other way
to rid her of this fear
than to show
that even beautiful flowers can grow from me
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May 24 · 37
ramblings of a wolf on his deathbed
Sabeer Amin May 24
ramblings of a wolf on his deathbed
you slouch too much 
 your bones turn into fangs  
guilt permeates your muscles  
a dog cuts itself to relieve an itch  
metal bars cage your heart in  
it suffocates you, but the key is already disintegrating in your stomach  
wolves without teeth are still dangerous  
or so they say  
the wolf weeps when it's alone  
it no longer hears the music of the trees  
inscribed on its fur is the poetry it writes 
 the moon and the sun judge with their light  
the shadows reprieve  
to bare your fangs and to smile look the same in darkness 
 self talk means nothing if your ears are filled with coins
  i serve my stringy meat on a plate made of my marble bones  
its magic, the food doesn't spoil as quickly  
i am liquid in a forest pooling on a leaf eaten by caterpillars 
 a howl is caught in my throat tearing my vocal cords as it is forced out  
an emperor attempts to soothe a gladiator, bruised and beaten, bleeding all over his marble floor  
disgust, hidden in the eyes of the emperor, stop him from caring  
the blood turns to wine, and the gladiator laps up his reward 
  the servants know the clean up will be tiresome    

they wipe their feet and hands on a wolf skin rug
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May 23 · 49
if you sacrifice me, my flesh will not taste as sweet
Sabeer Amin May 23
if you sacrifice me, my flesh will not taste as sweet
two slits form on my back
translucent, thin flesh sprouts
veins look like lightning strikes, peppering my wings

struck leaving only scarred, burning flesh
the taste of lamb changed when i saw one get butchered
a knife powered by the words of God

cumulus clouds, blood rain
it’s a miracle they say, the fruit is euphoric this time of year
a promise of honeysuckle

i read scripture with my mother on the mount
a burning bush, the leaves know they will be dead soon
the bugs charred, their screams are mixed with the sounds of hymns

intricate words pass through my eyes
i can only admire my mother
her eyes on the paper, unwavering

read! read! she yells, before God punishes you
i am already the lamb, my heart whispers
i feel the sadness in her lips, the disappointment rooting in her spine

perhaps it is why she feels pain there
the feathers i shed obscure the words i long to absorb
i lie to her that i am gifted, that my blood is in prophecy

did God allow ismael to feel the fire on his skin before saving him
singed slightly, did He tempt him with the ultimate sacrifice
my blood does not douse fires, it simply cakes and scabs

there are lambs birthed from my fallen feathers
my mother cradles one, crimson stains her light-like clothes
the blood of a sacrifice tastes like mothers milk
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May 22 · 41
moth
Sabeer Amin May 22
moth
there's a moth caught in the house
the sun, amplified through glass sheets
warm stars hidden in vast, cold space
skeletal frame lurches, cool and uninviting
the dark looms around every corner
ghosts, imagined and real, haunt every step
artificial light does not push away threats
it is a faux star in a dying place
my bones merge with wooden beams
bugs of the earth eat at my liver
butterfly wings, ethereal but venomous
leeches do not consume tainted blood
my pain unmakes me
the termites ******* sins
the eyes of a moth's wing are not blinded by light
my pupils dilate, resurrection
reborn as filament reflected
only moths could love unholy lights
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May 22 · 48
Apostles in the Screen
Sabeer Amin May 22
Apostles in the Screen
metallic love, sink your fangs into me
you are a mechanism of flesh and blood
tasting the marrow of my divine machinery

hymns churn low, vibrating sounds like an unspoken plea
our covenant is written in a crimson flood
metallic love, sink your fangs into me

consume me, where my bones and flesh meet circuitry
leave red oil slick on your lips, prove that i am loved
tasting the marrow of my divine machinery

drink this ruin, drown in my wiring where i am bound by holy symmetry
all torn beneath you, ripping through my plates and boards, believing that i am beloved
metallic love, sink your fangs into me

the ghost in my blood unspools, the one you’ve seen in visions, set free,
when you succumbed
tasting the marrow of my divine machinery

make me an altar, find apostles in the screen of my corpse, unmake me holy,
i am consumed, and i am free, and through my voice, your curse is numbed
metallic love, sink your fangs into me
tasting the marrow of my divine machinery
Continue reading...

— The End —