“بين الذكرى و النسيان، يعيش الإنسان”
“i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem”
فهلْ مِن صَاحبٍ يرثي لمَا ألقى فينعطف؟
أيقتلني الهَوى ظلماً
وما في النّاس لي خلفُ!
إذا كان الهوى خصمي
فقل لي: كيف أنتصفُ؟!
I’ve become numb, the perfect shade of blue.
I wonder why people refer to numbness as a negative
I believe, rotteing memories was the best part, and realizing I could’ve done that long ago was the worst part.
my words were pure mistakes you weren’t capable of, no wonder you got suffocated.
I’m oppressed by my own lungs. Hurts when I breathe. Splinters inside; likes to pick selectively; strangle away at me. My eyes are busy bleeding. Bleeding; on the sheets. Crying red. Grieve and grieve; wilting myself dead. Trying to refrain from activities; ones that help you fall. Exerted verve; just let me go. A monologue […]
I need disturbances in the air.