[nightwood [chorus]]

[a campfire on a cold winter day the hard unyielding log on which you sit it is organic and there is something soft about the discomfort of it a connection with nature the snow melts where my hot tea cup lays it’s tempting but if i put my hand inside the fire i’ll scream weContinue reading “[nightwood [chorus]]”

[nightwood [prelude]]

and in your insane quest towards impurity and self destruction you may find temporary relief in letting your body be torn apart you’re sick for letting sick people touch and lick your skin their wet saliva dripping and you’ll never forget the smell that they leave on your cheek   everything can be repaired theyContinue reading “[nightwood [prelude]]”

I’ll be whole again

From “The shade of old spectacles” I am a spirit I can be nothing more and nothing less So be it.   They’re my weapons against life But they will be my undoing If I don’t discard them soon They helped me when my mother was soaked in juice and her brain was all fluffyContinue reading “I’ll be whole again”

I remember

From “The shade of old spectacles” Blue The warm sea in which some people drown, the clear sky of the desert in which I got lost, the color of my backpack, of the weight of my story, the ink in my diary, the color of a 5-dollar bill you can use to buy things thatContinue reading “I remember”


From “The shade of old spectacles” Frozen You, little prince Standing with thirst in your throat And the witch Your own reflection Clear and still in what’s left of the river. It is time to say goodbye Even if she will never die. It is time to let things be To let her grow ToContinue reading “Healing”

This one is bright

From “The shade of old spectacles” Fresh paint on the walls Sometimes still gives a way for the colours underneath To be hit by sunlight.   Once upon a time, a child with none of those walls Had to pile up pieces of himself To make a shell. Leaving a tiny window whose glass polarizedContinue reading “This one is bright”

The colour of wheatfields (Full story)

A matter of importance   Tiny little flower growing in the dry land The only green shade in the desert How did it find a way in this arid empty place To emerge from the sand?   Perhaps it’s here to be noticed by the little prince When he falls down. When he can’t standContinue reading “The colour of wheatfields (Full story)”


From “The colour of wheatfields” Shattered What have grown ups grown to be Shattered dreams Pain caused by reality.   « I was a fool, I should have stayed on my planet » Said the little prince, eyes filled with a bit of regret « I should have guessed the little tricks hiding in my fiction, I wasContinue reading “Shattered”

The forgotten colors

From “The colour of wheatfields” I. كُل وردة عندها ألْوَان جميلة حمر، زرق، صفر أولا فنيدي تا يولي الوقت فَاتح ملي كَيتلاقى قلبي مع رَوَائح جديدة .ملي مكينش صداح في مخي   البارح بكيت، اليوم كنشطح كل نهار يقْدَر يكون غامق أولا فاتح ولكن مع الشمس عند بشرتي و القمر في ذهني كنحس .و كنستحقContinue reading “The forgotten colors”

The blight

From “The colors of wheatfields”   We all missed something.   Rotten.   He was so afraid of losing the rose The little prince completely forgot to take care of the tree That was dying on his planet Because he let the blight spread Now the elder almost stands dead.   Rotten. Forgotten. With skinContinue reading “The blight”