a star is a type of astronomical object consisting of a luminous
spheroid of plasma held together by its own
dull, hateful gravity.
a star isn't a type of astronomical object that does not consist of a luminous
spheroid of plasma held together by its own gravity.
its own gravity is someone else's gravity.
a star is a type of being unbeknownst to us consisting of a
luminous spheroid of plasma held together by its own gravity.
a star is a type of anonymous object consisting of a luminous cube
of liquid held together by its own weak nuclear force (ungravity).
a star is a dramatic entity.
plasma is held together by its own gravity.
luminous cube of liquid
spheroid of plasma held together by its own gravity.
a star is
a star by its own gravity.
astronomical objects of a luminous nuclear star.
a luminous spheroid of plasma gravity hologram hologram hologram hologram.

noun

1. this end is only a new beginning, the man at the podium affirms. a better place, a new adventure, is waiting for all of us when we pass on. i care not for that, watching my family's stony faces. there is a terrible wrenching where my stomach used to be. it's name is guilt.

2. i haunt my own home for the next several days, the next several weeks, the next several months, the next several years. i watch over them, trying to pay back their kindness from a past life. there is a pull where my chest used to be. it's name is obligation.

3. a man comes to be, insubstantial. rid yourself of this burden, he says. you need not be their keeper. they have forgiven you long before your passing.

4. i am free, i am free, i am free.

h.f.m.

noun

1. you think you know what i am? you know nothing.

2. 'crazy,' you mutter, strapping me in white with buckles and soothing words of false promise. 'delusional,' you whisper, bolting the door of this padded room and leaving me behind with the echoes of your footsteps. 'formidable,' you admit, in the quiet of your thoughts as tendrils of fear take root. at least you have one thing right.

3. are you listening? i am the end of all things. you cannot hope to contain me. i see all, i know all, i am all. there is nowhere i cannot escape to track you down. there is nowhere you can hide. i will find you.

4. it is written in the stars. my rise, from the ashes of this prison that smells of antiseptic and lemons and sickness. my *******, of this disintegrating world and all others. my fulfillment, of all and every purpose. you will bow. you will all bow. nothing will be as before.

5. i am everything. i am the world. i am you.

h.f.m.

adjective

1. we were all creatures of the sky, once. so do you remember how it feels to fly? tumbling and swooping through the air, the wind in your face and a laugh on your lips. in your arms it did not seem possible that i would fall. you saved me and i am unable to return the favor.

2. your eyes shine like merry stars and i am lost gazing into their depths. i can trace constellations across the bridge of your nose and when your mouth meets mine i suddenly feel weightless in the absence of gravity. the voices tell me i'm home.

3. the universe is an omniscient creature, and it knows your name.

h.f.m.

2 AM:

i'm falling in, and out, and in, and out,
of sleep.

my mind reaches:
arching forwards,
slowly uncurls a single finger

pinkish joints blossom
one-by-one

the slightest graze of fingernail
and what i think is real bursts into a million,
iridescent
spinning globules sent
skittering down a marble hall,
who knows how long?

but sometimes there are no marbles--
there are only shooting stars

masses of hazy, gaseous yellow
pixels, flickering and glitchering

in the corners of my eyes, hover
at my brow, drop at my feet ah...

a sadness devoid of
emotion.

like androids,
dreaming.

you emerge, dripping
in your last
suckled drops
of youth

i envy your
handsomely/striated/limbs

each step in your
-surefire- stride
light, but loaded

eyes w i d e r than your mind

mouth agape
i can only wish,

"just one drop"

im guilty--
biting my nail, biting my lip,
biting my
t o n g u e

fidgeting, flickering eyes that go
on and off, on and off
me

im chronic,
nervous,
in a state of
mind your own
business

im obsessed with
looking down at my feet as i walk


im forever stuck
in this awkward
edge-of-pubescence
b o d y

when i've already
died
a few hundred times
over



i dont have *******
i have two hearts,
beating out of my chest


im fragile,
tender,
might just topple over
or burst
into a million pieces of

confetti,
in my room:
its always somebody's birthday
that somebody is me
but i don't know somebody,
perhaps i used to know me
perhaps i never did



sometimes i want
oranges:
bright, round, yellow
fresh, spunky, don't-give-a-****

ill roll
whenever you put me down

im just a lemon:
yellow, iffy-butty

please
dont put me down



i just want someone to know me
(love me)

i just want to be an orange:
i wanna be what i seem
nothing to go off about
nothing to get put down about


i come as i am
and i get sent back home for it

you see--
i know nothing
all too well

Writing is
the frozen music
of an ellipsis -
a silent song
of a lonesome poet
who sings in the dark
between howling winds
crossing swords
in the white shades
of unseen things -

a winter on the pole
on whose  obverse side
there's Rio,
and mirth,
and dancing,
and the sun's critique
of hegemony.

© LazharBouazzi

Here in the morning gloaming
burning
my skin flaming
as I imagine red kisses
from smouldering lips!

How easily
in anticipation
you make me whimper
before with pleasure
making me simper -
each kiss
another hot coal
placed on my rawness
with searing softness.