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Waleed Khalidi Aug 2014
Again, laid my head next to vacancy,
thinking, "If only this were rest."
Again, cuddling with emptiness,
drifting away to the funeral hymn lullaby.
Again, awakening against my will,
next to the shames I vomited in my sleep.
Again, every muscle rotting thin,
as the replenishing hope drips down to its infinite ounce.
Again, my eyes twitch by the Sun's grueling slap,
while every motion half-hearted like a beast.
Again, a chance murdered by logic,
I answer her call as I heard her voice of the past.
Again, my words hide,
my thoughts betray me.
Still, never freed by love,
no angel with eyes to blind every worry.
Again, the moon brings its cloak,
the crumbling of faith only hidden by the dark.
Again, laid my head next to vacancy,
utter a prayer before a dangerous thought creeps in.
Again, goodnight.
Waleed Khalidi Apr 2014
I know of a land
where none but I have been
Not a land between seas
but a land of within
The familiar becomes fear
A home becomes a stage
The room whispers empty
I yell back in rage
The walls have me captive
Outside is but lore
For the clouds upon the ceiling
send floods through my door
A plea sent through the waves
for mere grace to stay afloat
But the sound heard in the gap
are the thoughts inside my throat
Like running from a bee
when you become aim of its sting
The past will pierce you again
with the daggers that it brings
The moon sings the stars' ode
My soul beside me it lays
for no one else would
I bid goodnight from the grave
Waleed Khalidi Mar 2014
You can use my chest to hear the ocean.
Swim in my veins and I will sail your eyes.
The earth is our canvas as we remember our trees' growing;
Like leaves embraced by wind, we are whisked to the skies.
The joining of lips will stop Time's grip,
Because he decides: "I shall take them never;
Forever paired." Impossibly split, even if
Fates river were to drown our endeavors.
I would fight the harsh rapids, aided by my will
To have your soul again within my grasp.
Death before failure; I would cry a horrid shrill
If another won you with his beautiful mask.
All above is a fiction often recited
By my thoughts to my soul, so lonesomely reminded.

— The End —