Monday, 30 March 2009


We run in circles.
All of our lives are nothing but a routine, a pattern.
Same incidents, same actions, same occurrences, only different places and different faces.
Life is one episode of a continuous series.
The emotions we feel, the ideas we have, the essence in us, is nothing but one. Always been, always will be. Nothing new.
Yet, the object changes.
Same fuck, only different persons.
Same fuck, only different rooms.
Same fuck, only disguisable loves.
Same fuck, only different perfumes.
Same fuck, only different foreplays.
The sensation is one.
The urge is one.
The pain is one.
This is the only truth.

Saturday, 28 March 2009

A never ending dream*

Dreamer: What am I to you?
Man: You are nothing.
Dreamer: Nothing?
Man: Yes. Nothing!
Dreamer: But last night …
Man: Last night was an illusion. A work of your imagination.
Dreamer: But you were there. All the time. You were there. How come … ?
Man: You were dreaming.
Dreamer: But I could touch you, kiss you and smell you. Here’s. Smell this. Your scent didn’t leave my skin. I can still taste your kiss.
Man: This is all in your mind. I am not real. I am an illusion. You were dreaming. Stop asking me questions.
Dreamer: I refuse to believe this. You are here now. What are you doing now?
Man: *smile* You are still dreaming… Your dreams never end. Your imagination never rests. That is all I am to you. Face it. I am your constructed reality. I am your means of escaping. I am in you. I am you.
Dreamer: Then I never want to wake up *sigh*

Thursday, 26 March 2009


Yet totally abhorred

From behind
And never too old

To get
To let
To get back
And to hold

Thy breath
Thy death
Both of which I adore

Spaced out
No doubt
Of too much mold

In need
To feed
My eager hold

To get
To let
To get back
And to fold

Thy will
Thy thrill
Thy lust and thy whore

Wednesday, 25 March 2009

Momentary madness*

How about I color your eyes
The colors of the rainbow

And I make you see
Through the tinted screen

Will you see me differently then?
Will you even care?

How about I tie your hands
To the bed of your neighbor

And I make you scream
From a disturbingly pleasurable stimulation

Will you call my name then?
Will you even care?

How about I shave your hair
While you are sleeping

And draw butterflies
On the boldness of your head

Will you notice me then?
Will you even care?

How about I read your mind
When you are dreaming

And make sure your dreams come true
Once you open your eyes to reality

Will you worship me then?
Will you even care?

How about I hold your soul
In the palms of my hands

And whisper sweet nothings to it
And hide it under my bed

Will you be mine then?
Will you even care?

Of sins, dreams and heaven.

To indulge in the sin
To molest our brains
To give us the most immoral motives
To satisfy our senses
Motives that come from our darkest dreams
The kinds that we only see
When we are alone
The kind of dreams we are afraid to share
Ashamed to share
Fearing resentment
From those who refuse to feel

I sin
I dream
I dream while sinning
I break the shield
Of your conviction
With my thoughts

I make you sin
You make me dream
We break the silence

We are in heaven
We are heaven.

Saturday, 21 March 2009


Her flesh, his lust
Her words, his imagination
Her mind, his obsession
Her desire, his duty

Like a spider web,
She cleaved to his body
Never letting him go

Him, addicted to the pain
She inflicts in his senses
Gave up all escaping attempts

She was what he yearns for
He was a mean of gratification

She was his passion
He was her android

She reined his imagination
He satisfied her sex

She was a pure fantasy
His mind was messed up

Sick, he was
Not physically,
But obsessed
With that which
He couldn’t have.

Friday, 20 March 2009

her dreams, his mind.

And all of a sudden, the world around them stopped from moving. Everything stopped. The cars, the music, the sound of the chaotic life of the city, even her thoughts blocked. There was but him and her – alone, in a world of her own imagination. You couldn’t hear a sigh; you couldn’t even feel a breath. It was as if the planet decided to stop functioning, as if the earth stopped turning, as if humanity has pledged a vow of silence, in respect for this sacred moment.

And then, he broke the silence …

- Don’t you have nightmares? Don’t you have dreams?
- I daydream.
- And at night, when you sleep?
- I don’t have any dreams left.
- When you daydream, what is it about?
- I don’t remember.
- You don’t?
- Well I choose not to.
- Why not?
- Well, I feel that when I give my dreams plots and stories, people will take my words for it … which is okay for some things, but not for dreams. I don’t want to tell people what to see ... I don’t want them to know what I see.

He gazed at her for a long while, not knowing what to say. That was it, he thought. That was it. She was not from this world. She could never be.
Upon a gesture from his fingers, his world started moving again. Everything became busy again. Only his mind, his lonely mind, remained static… unaffected by what is going on around it. Lost. In her fantasy world…

Sunday, 15 March 2009


Seeking love, you have sex.
Seeking originality, you plagiarize.
Seeking magic, you color the reality.
Seeking an identity, you try on different masks.

You get trapped in moments of momentary madness,
The outcome of which is an immense presumption of your supreme being.
But you are not supreme,
You are not immense,
You are a tiny human being;
Seeking answers for questions that go beyond your mind’s capacities,
Seeking sensations that go beyond the five human senses,
Seeking an understanding of the universe that will never be figured out.

Just stick to reality;
You are zilch, nil, nothing!

This is not Art*

I took these photos while waiting in Saida (South Lebanon) for someone to pick me up.
The weather changed with every fraction of time, from sun to storm.
I reckon it was worth waiting ...

Saturday, 14 March 2009

Can I come up now?*

Everyone has something to get rid of, something to throw into the fire. It could be an old blouse, an unworn dress, a precious piece of furniture, an overanalyzed idea, a fanatic attitude … we all have to give some things up. We all need to change, grow out of our skins, see beyond our eyelids, think outside the box … try looking at a piece of art upside down, or standing on the bed and looking at your things in your room from an up leveled perspective. Try smashing your most worthy mug and gluing its shattered pieces again – in a new form. Try screwing up your relations with people. Play with them. Take on different roles, be a million different people in a minute’s time span. Try coloring each of your nails a different color. Try counting the hairs that fall down from your head after your shower. Try thinking in black and white and dreaming backward. Try eating the same thing, over and over again, for a whole month.
Just try.
Do something.
Stop staring into emptiness.
Stop listening to your mind.

For once, revolutionize.

Monday, 9 March 2009

Torn between the seasons.

Sitting in her corner, watching the rain flooding like a madman’s rage, thinking that it was sunny just one hour ago.

The weather reminds her of her own mood – fluctuating; between sunshines and rainbows and storms.

Each minute belongs to a different state. Each thought is shaped by different circumstances. Each emotion is adhering to a thought. A thought of lust. A thought of sadness. A thought of phantasmagoria. And a thought of despair.

The weather leaves her feeling restless. She cannot keep up. Flux is tiring her. Her soul is on edge …

Will she be able to settle on one passion? Will she be able to be herself?
Are her mood fluctuations related to her identity? Do they determine who she really is? An unsettled being, living on the impulse.

Is this what she is all about?

How much would she torture her brain in order to understand her identity?

How much would she push the limits of her senses, in order to master her identity?

The rain stops. And so do her thoughts.

Far away a rainbow is starting to show. Will this be a ne beginning? A new definition? New dimensions?

Time will tell.

Of Veracity And Chimera*

I feel.
I dream.
And in my waking hours,
You don’t leave my mind.

I feel you, in my mind.
I dream about you – licentious daydreams.
For your shadows linger
Around me … throughout my existence.
And your silhouette wanders
Between the walls of my yellow mind.

I feel the burden of your existence
Saddling on my being
I feel your enticing weight
Aching my organism

And at night, when the darkness prevails
I pretend to sleep, just so that you don’t visit my dreams.

And I wake up thinking about you.
But who are you?

I refuse to fall.
I refuse to feel.
I refuse to live in my own reality.
I am afraid of my own reality.
Afraid of its illusions.

Go away.

Sunday, 8 March 2009

Into the black mind.

I want to colour

All the story boards

That linger in my mind.

I want to paint them

Happy colours.

I want to give souls

To people living in my head

I want them to be as alive

As any one around me.

But there is no one around me

And the story boards have no story

They are just torn fragments

Of fucked up ideas

Of gloomy hallucinations

I want to colour my emotions

Make them happy emotions

I want to colour my desires

Make them long for something beautiful

But I am trapped in distortion

Distortion is dark.

I am drained. Colourless.

Monday, 2 March 2009

The Urge To Be Seen.

It was about time she admitted it.
She enjoys being watched … by strangers.
It was about time she admitted it.
The feeling of a passer-by,
Devouring her with his gaze,
Undressing her with his eyes,
And making love to her -
Under the striking sun of a Sunday afternoon
On some island’s shore,
Only by means of his stare … -
Takes her beyond reality,
Puts her mind in a state of pure ecstasy;
A feeling that she craves for,
An urge she is not able to resist,
With everyday that passes by,
With every passer-by …