leave

So go ahead,
take everything away,
ungrasp my
clinging hands.
But don't you dare
come to me crying
as you say I let go,
when you didn't
leave me anything
to hold on with.
I played all my cards.
But silly me hadn't realized
that that was exactly
when the game had been over.
My wounds cannot heal
if you keep opening them.
Oh, my darling,
how I wish I'd be able to
withstand the blows you
aim at my core.
But I can only endure
the pain for so long,
I can't be a fighter forever,
for even wars have an end.

night routine

It's at 12:07 am when the clockwork mechanism of my mind begins to tick. It reminds me of the ticking of a bomb upon which the bomb explodes. Its shrapnel reaches just the edges of my heart but nonetheless it hurts. The blood of it trickles down my wrists and mingles with the tears that fall from my eyes.
The clockwork causes the thrumming of my head.
It's in my bed late at night when I can hear my own heartbeat. I can feel my pulse in my neck and my hands capture my chest and feel its thumping.
It's all a nightly cycle, a vicious cycle, a vicious beast that makes its presence known only in the darkness of the evening.
My lungs contain Uranium and because it's radioactive it sends out rays of loneliness and longing and absence of love.
A piercing sound makes its way to my ears despite the silence surrounding me. 

Patriotic

I don't consider myself patriotic.
Saying that in my country is like admitting to a crime. It's as if you've just said you've stabbed two people with a sharp knife in the thigh, punched 5 in the stomach and caused them an internal bleeding and then said you shouldn't be convicted for it.
In Egypt, you are not allowed to not love your country. You are expected to turn a deaf ear and pretend to be blind.

You are expected to not notice how differently everyone is being treated depending on their social status and how much money they seem to have.
You are expected to not make anything of men watching you. Expected to look the other way when they reach for other women.
It is expected from you to pretend that you are walking down the cleanest streets. Expected to not see any garbage lining any corners.
You are supposed to not be bothered by everyone's very lacking driving skills and their inability to drive in a straight line. Supposed to be patient as you wait for hours on end in your car because the streets are just that crowded.
And it is your very unlucky day if there happens to be an accident in the street, which there is, every day, because you. are. not. going. home. anytime. soon. Or arriving at your destination, might as well just give it up.
And when they finally rip you off, whether it be for Taxi money or home appliances, you are supposed to sit still, pay and not expect anyone to do anything about it.
In Egypt, my friend, you are supposed to overlook the people pissing in the streets, the people that look high off their fucking mind and the people that look so heart-wrenchingly poor that you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

When they finally rape you, humiliate you, strip you of clothes, money and dignity,
When they finally strip you of every possible right you might think you have,
When their ignorance and underdevelopment finally gets to you,
When sexism and racism is all consuming,
When you can no longer see anything but retrograde,
When you have lost hope
Remember:
I cannot be a patriot.
Not in a country where being a patriot is proof that you are as clueless, foolish and stupid as they make you out to be. 

I saw her

I saw her hurting.
I saw her tears,
         her regrets,
I saw how she blamed herself at night,
         how she tantalized herself.
I saw her fears,
         her doubts.
I saw the sadness.
       The one that engulfed her for several reasons
                                          or for the same reason
                                          or for one friend
                                          or for all people,
I saw her sadness.
I saw the way
                     she dreamed,
         the way
                     she screamed
   and the way
                     she contained it all inside.
I saw the way
                      she selflessly diverted
                      the attention from herself...
Selflessly?
I saw her shame,
         her beauty,
         her love
   and the way she was always genuine...
                                                             at least with me.
I saw how her delicate fingers shook,
         how they reassuringly held mine.
                      Reassurance for me or for her
                                                     or for the both of us
                            I couldn't tell.
I saw her devotion,
         her traits,
         her faults,
         her thoughts.
I saw her jokes
                        and I saw the way she laughed,
                                        the way she cried,
                                 and the way she then
                                                                 denied the world her tears.
I saw her contained
                              and I saw her liberal and free.
I saw her wild
         and polite
         and ashamed
         and hurt.
                 And I saw her happy.
I swear to God I saw her happy.
         And then I saw her  longing
                            to stay happy.
I saw her courage,
         her bravery.
I saw her responsible,
               formal,
               important,
               relevant.
I saw her care,
         her delight,
                          the way she was delicate
                                                                even if other people didn't see.
I saw her jumping,      
               excited,
               anticipating.
I saw her beat,
               tired,
               lonely,
               devastated,
               helpless.
I saw her curious,
               obvious,
               knowing,
               deft.
I saw her indifferent,
               scared,
         her cowardice.
I saw her art,
         her pride,
         her spirit.
I saw her patience,
         her forgiveness,
         her grudge.
I saw the light dancing and jumping from her eyes.
I saw her eyes,
         her eyelashes,
         her dark circles,
         her nose,
         her mouth,
         her insecurities.
I saw her heart,
         her soul,
         her broken bits and pieces.
I saw her needy,
               bubbly,
               cuddly
            soft, hard and firm.
I saw her hide,
                      she hid herself a lot,
         her shield.
I saw her pray,
               hope,
           sing and dance.
I saw her fallen
                       and I saw her steady.
I saw her shot,
         how she healed,
         her bandage,
         her excuses.
I saw her fight
          and win
           and lose
            and win and lose.
I saw her in lonely
         and in comforting nights,
               in lovely
         and in mistaken days.
I saw her family,
         her friends,
         her future
                       and I saw her alone.
I saw her scared,
               inspired,
         her denial.
I saw her arrogance,
               humble,
               trustworthy
         and feared.
I saw her neglected,
               collected.
I saw her today.
I saw her forgiven,
               mistaken,
          righteous and right.
I saw her faith,
               believing
         and lost.
And I could almost swear
             I saw her past,
                      her mistakes.
I saw her loved,
               cared for,
               hugged.
I saw her independence,
               shaking,
               feared for.
I saw her stubborn.
                             God damn it, she was stubborn!
I saw her accommodating,
               letting go,
               giving up.
I saw her hold on,
               persistent,
               insisting.
I saw her success,
               fail,
               get up and try again.
I saw her sweet,
               passionate,
               spiritful.
I saw her determined,
               careful,
               reckless.
I saw her mad,
               raging and calm.
I saw her vulnerable,
               powerful
         and in her element.
I saw her tired,
               exhausted,
               fatigued
        and energized.
I saw her insecure,
               loathing.
But I saw her beautiful.
I could almost swear I saw all of her.
I could almost promise I saw her complete.
I could almost insist
                              that I saw her better, clearer
                              than how others
                                                       saw
                                                              HER.
And I could say, frankly, that I love her.

           

the calm before the storm (3)

Smiles and laughs

Found in the company

Of caring people. 

in the arms of death

I've heard your voice,
I've seen your attitude
But all I can think of
Is you promising me
Of a future with you in it.
They say if you miss someone,
Sometimes, it's a sign that you're
Slowly moving on.
But I don't wanna move on.
I want you back,
Albeit I never had you
In the first place.
My darling,
Please let me in.
Let me see the pearls
That shine within you.
You lock me out
And I knock
And knock
And knock,
Desperate for the key
Or for you to open the door
And let me inside.
I pound on the door..
No one's opening.
I sling to the cold floor,
Tears streaming
Down my cheeks.
I scream,
I kick at the door.
Let me in, darling!
Can't you see, darling,
That I'm in deseperate need
Of you?
I'm sorry, darling..
My hands scan
The cold surface
Of the cold floor,
My legs thrusting
Frantically.
I'm sorry, darling..
All I can see
Are your eyes,
Asking if I'm Ok,
My nodding quietly.
Oh, my darling,
Aren't you aware
Of the war within me?
Oh, my darling, how I wish
For the ability
To withstand the blows
You aim at my core.
But I can only endure
The pain for so long,
I can't be a fighter forever
For even wars have endings.
Aren't you aware of the fire
You added wood to?
Aren't you aware
Of the knife
I'm holding
To my throat?
Let me in!
You're not glancing
My way anymore.
The words leaving your lips
Are the death of me.
The last thing I see
Before the infinite,
Peaceful,
Unending darkness
Are your furrowed brows
And your disapproving eyes.
I'm sorry, darling.
Will you grant me
The gift of forgiveness?
I guess
I'll never find out.

the calm before the storm (2)

The water looked beaten and tired,

Abused by the trash of humankind.

The waves moved back and forth

Disturbed by a soothing wind.

But it found a slow rhythm

To which it can move.