Deviance

Drums roll and the fireworks reach the sky

Colors so bright that they blind my eye

“Bring on the victors, bring on the winners” they said

“The audience await, we will air in seconds”

“The horses are ready, let the show begin”

“The countdown starts at ten”

Wear your make up like a doll 

And put on your papyrus gown

Or should it be of feathers, or should it be of silk

What do the Capotal appeal, what do they think?!

The hair should be up, like a cone, standing

And the lashes should be curled, like twists and circles

And the colors should be shimmering;

Abhorring Gold and Silver

Bombard them with emotions

Just as fake as their looks

They paint their skin, they paint their feathers

They want to see me in their faked colors

They call me the “Girl on Fire”

For they adore me when I’m burning

Let the gown burn, let the fire take over their sight

Let The "Snow" melt with his raging desire

To kill me, to put me down but I’ll never die

I’m living in the people, in their fury uprising

Survival is a game, a game of hunger it’s said

And I volunteered to let my flying arrow pierce their hearts

I set myself on fire to defy them; I’m not for their amusement

I’ll swing my dress for them, unleashing my appalling

They will like the fire bursting 

Not knowing that it’ll burn them eventually

The rebellion is rising, we are fighting against the silence

It’s all for the Hunger Games, their act of deviance

Based on the movie The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

Lime...Life Burns (A Short Story)

There is a force that I can’t name, depriving me the air. All I’m sure of is that it squeezes me so tight; I’m strangled, I’m unable to breathe. It’s like a molted stone has coated my heart then got subjected to liquid nitrogen, crystalizing it. It’s unable to beat; still and dead. My heart is dead and burning; it’s white as pure lime in water.

There is no blood pumping but I’m moving though. I can control my body and my gestures but there is no blood flowing in my streams. I try to hurt my fingers to see if there is blood running in my veins but there isn’t any. There is no flesh that I can cut through; my body is like a moving statue made of stone. The only way to see what’s within me is to smash me against sharp rocks and I’m not even sure if I’d be cracked open or the rocks would. It’s like I got carved in the mountains then brought accidently to life through a thunder storm that struck me. It feels that there were no prior intentions to my unintended existence.

I wander in the place; it seems familiar. I’ve had visions of this place ever since I can remember. I’ve always been part of it that was suddenly torn out. I live here, or I think I do, I don’t know. I have no memory of anything. I have no feelings toward anything. I don’t know the name of the place I am at. I don’t know what I am or what the things that are surrounding me. I look at my hands and I look like me, the thing I’ve always known I am; I’m wood. I’ve never walked or talked before. I was always standing in my place, motionless but so much alive. I never walked around the place before, but I’m sure it was never this ugly. I can’t recall seeing these tombstones here, as old as time. I can’t recall any of this; the river, the dead daffodils, the red moon, the castle that is covered with spikes, none of it. I can’t recall this abhorring sight.

I used to be a motionless tree but now I’m moving. Maybe that’s what happened with those things, maybe they too had a sudden moment of movement?! But if they had, were they just as confused as I am?! But I’m not a tree anymore; I have no roots, I have no branches, I have no bird nests nor do I have my leaves and fruits. Have I gone barren, or have I died and that’s what is left of me! I have no clue what is that for I’m in or what are those things and why have they changed. Or maybe they never changed, I have no concrete memory of anything, I know that I was a tree but now I’m not and I don’t know what I am so how can I know what they are or were. There is just this realm of uncertainty. It feels like walking on water. Maybe I was curved or drawn onto something, or maybe I was a part of something else that I don’t know. All I can remember is that I am brown, I’ve always been.

I saw this flash last night, bright and stinging. It was like a burning rage falling from the blue roof hanging above my head. It seemed like the moon was crying, no wonder, I’m wet. It was hurt, or maybe confused just as I am now. I can remember seeing this flash coming towards me. It was a tremendous, blinding light targeting me in the middle, somewhere here beneath my head. I can remember feeling a burn, an enormous pain, a choke and a squeeze and then I fell to the ground unconscious. That’s all that I can remember. Since it struck me, there must be a scar somewhere here; it looks like it hit my heart.

A moment of epiphany, a pause, a flash back like a video rewinding, it’s all here in my head now; all my memories. I was a part of the tree; I was the tree. I’m a girl that was once carved in this wood, now alive, by the hands of a little girl, a girl that always had this calmness in her eyes; a calm spirit that can be mistaken with sadness. No wonder she was calm, just like her name; Serene. She was the graceful spirit giving life to us; her woods. One day she stopped visiting, it’s the moment in which time has stopped. I used to see the world in her eyes but with her gone, there was no world to be seen. She died so young that they dug her grave beside the running river, watering the daffodils that died before their time, just as she did. She was the breath of life given to us, the motionless nature, unsympathetic to her pains. That explains it all. That’s why I was choking, having a stone coated heart. That’s why I’m bloodless and beat-less; I have no heart. No wonder it was still and dead, burning like lime in water. The lightning struck the heart that Serene drew for me, it is not a real one but it feels the pain nonetheless. Like a combination of lime and water, this burn I feel in my shape is the burn she felt and we were unsympathetic to. The moon was angry that it cried and struck me dead to only come to life. Just like lime gains life as it touches water, life burns. It only makes sense now, you have to die in order to come to life, the disdainful existence of humanity and nature alike. 

Creation (A Short Story)

Inspired by Nada Adel's "Sparks of Life"

They fly in the air; colorful flares of fireworks. They then collide with earth, in the speed of a blink. They die as fast as they gain life. Their lifespan lies between two gestures, a curve up and another down. They reach the sky then hit the ground. They pay devotion to the mighty power holding up these clouds from colliding with the circular shape underneath it then they swear allegiance to the earth that gives life to the dead.  They glare then fade; dissolving in the land that brought them to life in the first place. They are not fireworks; they are the inhabitants of the soft, muddy coat of the core of fire. They are cold fire; they are passionate people.  

Dark Hope (A Short Story)

Disclaimer: The following contains explicit content. Please DON'T READ if below 18

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It is when you get the feeling of: OK, whatever, just let it burn and let the smoke reach the sky. Let it cloud the light of the last matchstick burning, consuming the last molecule of oxygen to stay alive. Let it produce the last of its life energy then fade slowly and painfully away. Just give it up; there are no molecules left to light up the last match for one more second and there is no hope left for you to reach the light fading by the second now.

It is frustrating to reach such feeling of depression. Why would I reach such a level?! Is it all because I saw him with another woman?! I’ve always known he was trouble. It’s not something that would put me down. It’s something that gave me advantage over him, it always has. Knowing his nature and playing the role of the dumb, stupid girl who loves him unconditionally and unwillingly is just as sweet and victorious as reading a new poem, writing one or watching slam poetry finals. It is something that has always kept me stronger and in a better position than his. So why am I so frustrated now. It can’t be him, can it?! Could I have fallen for him?! It’s so unlikely of me. I don’t fall in love, I’m incapable of loving. This doesn’t mean that I’m mean or heartless but it is something that I’ve acknowledged about myself. I do not have the ability to love, yes I’m smart, I know this about myself, but not a person who can love and indulge in it and lose myself over it. Maybe he noticed that and knew it about me?! But how would he know, I’m good at sex, I revel in it. Sex is an expression of love, if you do sex hard and strong you express your feelings! Maybe that’s the problem, I’m too expressive and too dominating that he noticed how much I do it passionlessly, I just go on with the euphoric feeling that fills my needs and then PUF, I’m gone, it’s done with and he is nothing to me. Maybe, he is seeking affection, a feeling that will make him feel loved, truly loved, not just sex love. I have to stop thinking that all people are like me, affectionless and sex addicts!

The thought never left my head, it made me relentless and sleepless. I couldn’t comprehend why would I feel as such if he is just a sexual expression to me, I mean, I can get any other man, can I not?! But this too made me disgusted, yes I can say that I feed on sex but hell, I’m not a hooker, I’m not the girl for one night stands, this is abhorring. So why am I feeling such infuriation and depression, I have no clue.

Days passed and he didn’t know that I knew about his cheating, he never knew that I knew about his previous ones as well, so why would he notice it this time. This actually invited my demons in and made me think of two things; either he is way smarter than myself and he knows that I know and he doesn’t care and playing dumb himself, or he has lost all hope in me to give him a genuine feeling of love, a sexless passion that would make him feel that I want him and I love him just as he loves and wants me. I liked the second thought better. This invited another two thoughts to come along, either I love myself so much that I refuse to admit that he might be smarter than me, or I love him that I want to give him what he best deserved. I didn’t go through the possibilities more than that. I knew that if I did, I would hate myself more and sympathize with him more than I am already. I felt sorry for him, he is married to a woman who is unable to give any genuine feeling whatsoever as long as it’s not sex. The only thing I feel is euphoria; the burning skin and goose bumps when I’m enjoying myself in bed. It feels like rebelling against the world, myself included.

The thing that I loathed the most is how come I’m a writer, I’m an expresser of feelings, and I feel nothing. How come I explain how others can feel while I myself unable to feel what they feel, I’m unable to identify with their feelings. It’s like a painter who cannot see what he is painting, nor can he see the colors he is using! It is very hypocritical of me to call myself an expresser while I lack expression. It’s even more hypocritical and irritating of people to call me one. It’s either they are so blind to see within me or they are so desperate to get a grip of their own feelings that I express for them. They feel what I tell them to feel, I dictate them their feelings that’s why they cry when a child dies and when a father leaves his kids to go to war. They are just as numb as I am. If an emotionless creature teaches people how they should feel towards something then there is no essence, no true feelings or emotions to be taught, there is only nothingness. It’s like a lost puppy showing a blind man the way home. I’m walking these people towards the void, towards nothingness. This thought itself made me give it another piece of my mind, I’m reveling in a world of possibilities that might never end and lead me to self-destruction.

I realized that I was going in an endless circle of thought and confusion. I was doing the thing I’ve always done best; building theories and reaching endless possibilities of an infinite set of conclusions. Each thought had its own theory reached and each had its own conclusion lighting as a bulb in my head, leaving me to just walk towards another one, in a circular shape. It was enjoyable, yet tiring and exhausting.

Trying not to get distracted by my irritating brain nature, I decided I should focus on one thing at a time. The thing that I was concerned about is knowing why I was so frustrated. And then another thought came along, a distracting thought yet useful. If I can be that irritated then it must have surely hit something in my shell, making me care suddenly. It’s no more the dumb girl keeping up the pretense of love. Maybe I really did feel something for him, not necessarily love but maybe the feeling of domination; I’m losing my grip on him! This freaked me out for a couple of seconds and I started to reach my insanity corner, breaching all the security alarms banging.

For the first time, in a couple of weeks now, I feel something else that is not infuriation. I liked that I could feel such anger and such jealousy if I may say. I suddenly realized that I can feel, I have a feeling. It doesn’t matter what this feeling is but it exists. This means that there is something beyond this shell of mine that can actually be more humane and more affectionate. There is something beyond the wires and the technology and the world of letters and words that I’m ravishing in and still know nothing about. I am playful with words, I know that. I am always told that I’m one of those who can translate every feeling as accurately and as visually as anything tactile ever. I never believed them until now. I’ve always thought that I’m useless and I’m emotionless, but now I can acknowledge what they’ve been saying; I do have feelings, I do have affection. I’m capable of loving. I do this in my own way, a way that only I can understand and no one else has the capacity to endure. As twisted as it sounds, it put me to relief! I finally can see that there is hope for me to reach the light of the last matchstick burning. I do have hope in steering away the smoke of the fire, my darkness burning and intermingling with my desire to give in. the whole time I was suppressing the emotion of love in me and expressing it as violently and vulgarly in sex. I never thought that it can really be a feeling of true affection towards him. After all I never really gave it an ample thought of why I was never with any other man but him. It’s because unconsciously I’ve always realized that I do love him and only him. I was just a chicken enough not to admit it to myself.

On that night I decided that I will show him a moment of true affection and passion. I will show him how much I cared, sexless, lust-less, without any intentions towards anything but reaching his heart and making him understand that I loved him for being him, not for the pleasures he gave me. I put on my best dress, it was not revealing because I wanted him to see it in my eyes not in my sensuality. I lit up a couple of candles and I cooked dinner, I cooked myself this time, I actually never cook at all. I drew my eyeliner, as simple as he likes it and as pure as he always calls it, and I waited for him. He came in exhausted but when he saw me his eyes glittered. I saw love and passion and affection that I haven’t seen in a long time. I have always noticed it but I have never seen it. He realized that I wanted him in the way he wanted me. He realized that I started to love him the way he does. I started loving him in his way, not mine. He realized that I have finally seen his pain, the one I caused him unintentionally. And he smiled the purist and most innocent smile that a husband can ever bestow upon his wife. He was like a child, newly born and feeling his mother’s heartbeat from the outside for the first time. He felt safe and made me feel his feelings of safety. I just looked into his eyes and realized how dumb I was, literally this time, not pretending. I can see the love that I have missed, enshrining myself away from his affection. It was the first time in forever that I have finally seen the match burning, gloriously and victoriously, saying mutedly that it will never fade away. The match didn’t fade and the oxygen didn’t die. It was my fear that imprisoned my passions, my life energy combusting.

It was only then that I realized that even though it’s burning and crumbling down to ashes and its smoke is reaching the sky, there is always a hole in the size of a matchstick that resembles disillusionment and resolution. There will always be a molecule of oxygen that will keep the match lighting my way, I just have to figure out where I should position the match to catch the molecule to light up my path. This is the hope that I’ve always carried within me but never knew that it even existed, it’s the hope devoured by darkness and brought to life through the dark; it is dark hope, a hope only mine. It’s my moon, a moon only for me.

Alone it stands in the dark sky

From time to time it ages and dies

Then gets reborn from the womb of hollowness

Giving life to its deathening deepness

Like a Phoenix born of ashes

It is a rock out of existence

That thrives through day to come back each night

To give hope to the hopeless, wandering sights

Look Into My Eyes

Written back in 2012

Look into my eyes, 

and tell me what you see. 

Can you see that little girl, 

hiding beneath those tears? 

Look into my eyes, 

search thoroughly through me.

Is that little girl still hiding, 

still filled with fear? 

  

Is she still broken? 

Can you dry up her tears?

Can you return her stolen childhood? 

Can you break that boundary of fear? 

Does she still remember,

how gorgeous her smile used to be?!

Or can she only see the moment, 

when her family got all slaughtered, 

without a sign of mercy, 

for the sake of greed. 

Look into my eyes, 

search inside of me. 

can that little girl be helped, 

or was she swollen all by death?! 

Tell me the answer when you see her. 

Tell me what she is keeping beneath her. 

Can the little girl immerse again, 

and leave the tough woman I’ve become?! 

Or has she submerged forever, 

in an ocean so deep?!

  

Look inside my eyes, 

search inside of me.

I'm screaming down inside, 

wondering if you can help me.

Resurrection

Hide no more my shadow soul

Come back to life’s vibrant light

Come to light through the raging music

Rise up from your wretched sleep

Hide no more my lonely soul

Crave the world and feed on life

This sun that you’re scared off

Let it no more sting

Rise from the dead my shadow existence

Feed on light and crave the lust

Come to life through the music of the bold

Get me crowned over a lively kingdom

Humanity is bewitching

This frailty of their hearts is so attractive

I was hiding in the day 

But now I’m seizing the immortality of the night

Feel life and echo your eternity

Be a shadow no more my love

Be a free soul and don’t take in the fear

Let the vibrant violin be your elixir of freedom

Rise up from your wretched sleep
Let it no more sting
Get me crowned over a lively kingdom
As I’m now seizing the immortality of the night
Let the vibrant violin be your elixir of freedom
Resurrect me from the shadows of the dead

Queen of the Damned_Forsaken

Based on the character Lestat of Queen of the Damned