you know,
they say
when one door closes,
another one opens.
well, when
my door closed,
someone’s hands
came to my neck.
her eyes were so gentle,
gentle in a way that
is innocence masked.
she strangled the visible life
out of me.
she pinned me to the floor.
and when i tried slipping the story
out
into the world,
they laughed in my face.
so i thought this wasn’t normal behavior.
i was supposed to appreciate something unwanted,
some invasive beast.
i was supposed to accept my fate,
leave my life in the hands of a black swan.

you see, she crawled into my soul,
stuffed her face into my ribcage.
she lapped up every inch of me that was
left
standing
in the sun.
her eyes were bullets
yet it was always the same response of
“you’re a target, you should love the sound of gunfire.”
no, i am a gaping wound,
bleeding guilt,
bleeding out the remains of my foolish heart.
i bleed alone.
i am seeping blood.

she slammed the door so fast
and i could not look back;
there was not a new door to unlock.
i stood there helpless, stunned, shocked.
the fire violently grew
but somehow they didn’t see.
somehow they didn’t try to help,
they didn’t come to rescue me
from these depths.
they came to gawk and make jokes
at the expense of my life.
i couldn’t cry
because
the weakness would seep from my pores if i did,
it would show on my trembling lips,
it would put an end to my pride.
yet
what is pride
but a selfish desperate emotive response?
i am weak.
she pushed through my dry wall
and she
taught me how to unlearn careful choices.
she stole the human from me,
i was left as a naked, erratic wild animal.
yet she was always the one with bright white fangs
that pierced through my satin skin
and an apology was never exchanged.
i never wanted to shut the door
to my safety,
i never wanted to wind up in a creepy alley
beyond where i recognized the area.

and,
what did you call me
but a weak
and pathetic little creature
who can’t defend his honor?
why have you stripped me of my dignity?
i reel below your throne
coughing up childhood innocence and
disgust.
and they didn’t believe me
even when i clawed at my walls
begging to be saved,
they turned away.
they shook their heads.
they made me a liar.
they made me think i did the wrong thing
by being there
by not using my fists for power.
in my ravaging pits of darkness,
she blamed me.

you know,
they say
when one door closes,
another one opens.
but where is the doorknob
to my destination of
believing?
where do i turn now that you pillaged
the trust from my bones
using blunt force?
after you left me with my heart in my ****** hands
and the self that i don’t recognize in the mirror.

who did you leave me as?

I thaught:
I am getting over the heart attacks 
then I watched:
I, Daniel Blake

1917

What is a woman?
She is too much
.
Too much joy, like her heart is a bird which beats wildly against the cage of her chest,
(the cage Adam gave her, keeping her together)
Too much pain to contain alone, a tether
To the hands of those who might abuse her
.
Too unrestrained in love that it spills into the world freely, unknowing of the price
Too free in this jealous world, that seeks to condemn what it cannot consume,
Ex lovers, or demons she dare not exhume
.
Too much place in her skin, too much shine in each tress
Too much space in her limbs, so she must become less
So much beauty and life, to love and to touch
She knows what she wants, a little too much
.
Too tender to be broken, so she must become tough

And what is a man,

But not enough

Silence.
Gaze.
And if you were the only person to share knowledge with
I would take my leave.
Your too much reasoning disturbs my Wijdan.

That holiday: storm,

rain -- I so wish it could be


that bad one more time!