Love is no lie.
Dependency is a lie.


Words Of Harfouchism.

I am stuck.
I can not breathe.
I need my life support.
Please help me.
Breathe for me.
Make your heart beat for me.

Too late.

I do it for you!* I wanted to scream,
I do it all for you, you *******!

But sometimes, when you knock on
wood, you find it hollow, an empty that
echoes, and even the loudest noise couldn't
wake that dormant emotion, those parts
of you that have retreated into sleep,
curling in on themselves.

I have been trying to let them
down gently, my floorboards. They keep
creaking at night, thinking you're still
tiptoeing around my house. How do I
tell them you're gone?

Easy's in ashes. I'll never have it again, and
I'm tired, of being tired, of feeling sorry
for myself, so hit me with your best shot.
Make it hurt. I am not above begging.

Sometimes I think I am not above
anything at all.

Unhealthy, sure, whatever, lock me up.
**** the lights. Set the house on fire.
I don't care anymore. Lies perpetuating
lies, lies inside lies, lies lining the inside
of your throat and pushing against the
roof of your mouth.

I made a place for myself there, you know.
I made a place for the both of us, but we
were too cowardly to live in it, too weak,
and besides, what you said about me was true.

I doubt my own doubts, far more than I doubt you.

within my own vicinity
i search for simple serenity
tending to my own tendencies
mending without amenities

sick and twisted remedies
a bitter sweet identity
my slit-wristed entities
the enemies of my memories

Am I the parasite?
The leech that latches for days and drains,
The mosquito that ***** and savours the blood,
Do I cling too tight and push you away?
Am I weight that sinks you, deep in the mud?
The weather balloon tether pinned down to the ground,
Superglue poured on the perch of a birdcage,
Am I tear in your plane wing, thirty feet off the runway?
A lead lining to your new kite, recieved on your birthday.

But a bird that doesn't fly can never drop from the sky,
Runway flight failures don't cause a stall and a fall,
A balloon can't be popped by air pressure down here,
And lightning won't strike a kite with no height to it at all.

So maybe I'm the safety net,
A prison tower, but the stablest,
The delicate balance of freedom and danger,
Is something I'm not aquainted with.

I can't seem to make up my mind
whether to go to sleep
or write a line
I take so long to make a move
I tend to grind into a groove.

I make a choice
but, do not act.
I use my voice, but let it crack.
I know what to do, but I do not
and so, I always seem to miss my shot.

Procrastination, Indecision, Laziness and Pride
Together, they conspire
to keep me down
and locked inside.

I have come close so many times.
I tell myself I'll see it through.
But, then in the fury of the moment
I always seem to miss my cue.

But, it isn't timing
or dependence
that keeps me waiting for someday.
Its the knowing I can do it
If I could
just get on my way.

Smoke left to curl against the sky
Toes crinkled under shoes
Funnelled out and contemplating
All he had to lose

She had left and flown as whispers leave
The lips of those who hush
An atlas crushed unto her *******
No guilt of burning trust

Bitter had she left him
Like the dregs from PG-Tips
And, burned into his memory,
Her swaying, leaving hips

His anchor was stripped away
He was flotsam in a sea
He shuffled out and left the edge
"Nothing now, for me."