A heartfelt encounter

She locked your eyes into an intense stare; an expressionless, faceless stare that captivated you. You could not look away, even though your heartbeats sped in what resembled fear and your instincts begged you to turn around and run.

She smiled; a slender, unreadable smile that mesmerized you and made you tilt your head in bewilderment. Unable to fathom what the smile depicted, you unconsciously smiled back, raised your eyebrows and hoped for the best.

With your heart still racing slightly, she came closer. You held your breath in anticipation as she approached you slowly, confused and apprehensive at your failure to understand what lay behind her persistent stare and enigmatic smile.

She rested the palm of her hand on your bare chest, ever so gently. The meeting point of your skin with hers electrocuted you, even though her hand was cold. The blend between the electric heat and her icy touch shocked you, making you shiver for a second or two.

Still smiling, still staring, she dug her nails into your skin, effortlessly tearing it apart and allowing the blood to flow freely down your chest. Your eyes stared wildly in shock and your apprehensive, bewildered smile turned askew as you began to feel the physical pain of what you did not yet comprehend.

Smoothly, she dug her fingers deeper into your gaping chest, slowly and purposefully. Unable to bear the pain, you attempted to scream but were aghast by the nothingness that parted your lips.

Only then did you understand what lay beneath that relentless stare; it was unfaltering determination at vengeance.

Purposefully, she burrowed her hand further in until her fingers surrounded your heart gently, keeping a loose grip on it as it still beat.

Only then did you understand what that unreadable smile portrayed; it was confidence of the power she held over you.

Swiftly, quickly, and effortlessly, she pulled it out from between your ribs and tossed it carelessly on the floor, underneath your feet, right next to hers.

Still smiling, she looked away and, just as gracefully as she had approached you, she departed.

Two hearts


Ruthless epiphanies

I swallowed a pill that took me nowhere,

I followed a path that did not end.

I prayed to Gods that have no ears,

And pretended that mountains could bend.

With failure after failure,

Epiphanies tore me apart.

My sanity lingers with death and magic,

Leaving a carcass of what was once a heart.

I blame hope,

I blame you,

And I do not blame myself.

This new ruthless existence of mine

Is how I was meant to be from the start.

Kill your innocence, rethink your dreams,

This is no place for growth.

If you haven’t realized that life is a joke,

Then you’re intentionally wasting your youth.

Pills of happiness

She wants

She wants to play with fire. She wants to feel it’s heat hover dangerously close to her skin, to have her heartbeats race in anticipation of risks and consequences. 

She wants to dance on the edge and is willing to take a fall. She will not mind the scars it leaves behind, she will not regret the urges that she pursued.

She wants to plunge into the depths of the abyss. She does not want her innocence anymore, she’d trade it in a heartbeat for adventure. She hungers for lessons to be learned, for the layers of her nativity to be stripped one by one.

She wants, and wants, and wants.

She pursues.

Dancing on the edge

I listened…

He sat comfortably in the palm of my hand, swinging his legs back and forth in the air like a happy child. He rested his hands beside him on my palm as he looked up at me with a big, trusting smile on his face. His eyes showed utter surrender, unfaltering trust, as though this particular moment was the epitome of his happiness.

He bent his knees and raised his legs into my hand, resting on his elbow and eventually curling up on his side as he succumbed to his instincts of comfort. His ease was so overwhelming that he fell asleep within seconds, right there, in the palm of my hand, oblivious to any danger, free of all burdens, pure like a baby at its mother’s bosom.

I looked down at him in bewilderment, wondering how he could trust me so blindly with his very existence. How could he trust me with his life so comfortably, knowing that I had the physical ability to crush him in a second? If I desired, all I had to do was fold my hand and he would simply cease. His trusting breath would exhale and never exist again, erasing all his hopes in less than a minute.

I marveled at the power he gave me and how trustingly he did it. His life – he – was in my hand and yet he was not afraid. On the contrary, he was content, maybe even happy.

And all that because I simply listened.

All I really did was listen to him, intently and with undivided attention, until his distrust was blinded and his fears were dispersed into nothing.

How naive…


He slept in the palm of my hand...

The life-cycle

Expressions of blood and distortion....


Your heart bleeds, so you write, stabbing the paper with your pen of steel, with ink of crimson blood.

They read. They hurt. They weep.

They turn the page. They move on. They forget.

And you are forgotten, too.

But your heart still bleeds…


Your soul distorts, so you dance, hurling, spinning and soaring the pain away with the grace of a dying empress.

They observe. They muse. They cheer.

They shiver, they sympathize, then step away.

And you are left crouching on the ground,

Your soul still distorted beyond repair…


Your sanity is in agony, so you paint, slashing the canvas with the sharpness of your brush, smudging the blood with colour.

They focus. They theorize. They appreciate.

They discuss. They look away. They disperse.

And you are left standing there, naked, barren, void,

Your sanity is nowhere near peace…


Your skin exudes suffering, so you sing, screaming in affliction, pitching at extremes and filling the atmosphere with stagnant monotones.

They listen. They flinch. They ponder.

They reminisce, then lose track, then fail to remember,

While your screams are still ringing in your ears

And your skin grows immune to healing…


This is how I  live, in futile awe-inspiring expression.

You muse, you appreciate, maybe even applaud,

Then you leave me here amidst the chaos of myself.


I do not do this to entertain you.

I do not do this for your pleasure.

I do it because it’s all I know…




A promise


I promise,” he whispered. “I promise.

We stood miles apart, but I heard him; I heard him promise. The ocean between us was impossible to cross until that moment. The power of those two words manifested itself in the form of a bridge; strong, illuminated and with luscious blossoms on each side.

It started to form itself at my feet, bricking its way into continuity as my eyes followed its courageous journey onward.

I took a step forward, and heard him do the same.

I took another, and another, and so did he.

The ground beneath me solidified with every step. My faith gave each stepping stone solidity; a shape and form that grew stronger as we came closer to one another.

Hesitant steps slowly transformed into firm ones, and gradually into leaps of faith, each stronger than its predecessor.

I promise,” he whispered.

The miles grew shorter, the distance nearer, the footsteps surer.

The promise morphed from its gaseous, flamboyant state into tangible density. There was a metamorphosis as it reshaped from promise to expectation; from hesitance to leverage that lifted my spirits into the realms of happiness to come.

The euphoria of it all levitated me as I sped in his direction. My feet no longer touched the ground, I no longer needed the bridge for my hope has given me ghostly wings that lifted me and pushed me gently towards my tomorrows.

I closed my eyes reassuringly, knowing my way with confidence so audacious that I didn’t need to see the path I was hovering over. The closer I got, the surer I got, and that was the only truth I knew.

With a burst of song and luminous rays of colourful light, my expectations took another form, a more solid one that made my confidence surge and my will to complete this journey invincible. This was now my birthright; a given!

His promise is my birthright, and our union is inevitable. The thought was intoxicating!

With my eyes closed and my arms spread out beside me, I flew towards him and relished on the joy of this extraordinary journey.

Faster and faster, I flew towards my love through a path brightly luminated with dancing lights of hope. Beneath me, the bridge ceased to form, but I didn’t care; I was flying! ‘The end determines the means, I suppose,’ I thought, and I no longer needed the ground to get to my destination.


Deafening silence.

An instantaneous explosion of muted, piercing pain.


Complete disorientation.

My eyelids fly open as I battle to make sense of what has just happened. I huddle over with pain and open my mouth to scream. I feel the force of the scream as it exists my lungs, slashes the insides of my throat and tries to find its way out into the world, but I hear nothing.

Muted, piercing pain everywhere across my body.

Dazzled by the colourful, bright lights of hope that surrounded me, what I see now is utter chaos. I can make no sense whatsoever of the imagery that my eyes reflect. Where there was supposed to be an endless horizon is an abrupt wall of some kind. The pain shooting across my body is blurring my judgement and I am unable to comprehend or process what my eyes are trying to tell me.




Thudding pain.

Thudding pain.


Again, confusion.

Again, mounting fear.

Determined, I will my eyes open and take in my surroundings.

‘Focus!’ I tell myself. ‘Focus!’

I am lying on my back, above me is a wretched sky of smeared colours that echo the confusion I am in.

Every cell in my body is throbbing with pain, but I struggle to sit up as my need to understand surmounts the gushes of hurt that surge through me.

In the distance, I see a wall. Its roots plunge deep to where I cannot see them and its height stretches higher than I can fathom, as though as I was hovering in midair and that wall extends to realms beyond which my senses can reach.

‘But I am not hovering,’ I tell myself. ‘I am on solid ground.’

I’m confused.

I look behind me and realize that I am sitting on the very edge of the bridge that had stopped forming. In front of me is nothingness, then that strange wall.

Then I remember, and understand.

I was flying to my love, eyes closed and accelerating like a determined eagle when I must have struck that wall with all my force and was thrown back until I crashed against the floor of my incomplete bridge.

Hence the pain, the confusion and the chaos.

Through the mute shrieks of pain that are running through my body, I manage to stare blankly at the wall as I wonder what it’s doing there. I focus, then see that it is made of rusted, iron bricks; brittle and decaying though powerfully put together, un-breach-able, painful to the touch, let alone a blunt collision.

There are writings on the wall. Each brick is hideously carved with marking that resemble scratches of a desperate prisoner, all repeating one word over and over; Lies.


Mounting anger.

Crippled heart.

Damaged body and mind.





Hope vs. Loss…






Hope is merciless!

Hope is driving me insane!

That’s all there is in the end; merciless hope that maddens the most sensible, and drives the dead into living. It befools the wise and makes imbeciles of the most proper of people.


All of you are fools!



I am such a fool…


Merciless hope.


I am lost. This is all I am truly feeling; loss.

I wish I could tell you about it, but it’s hard.

To write of loss is difficult. When you know not where you are, how can you possibly tell others?

When contradiction keeps pulling you back and forth, how can you know where you stand?


But, please, let me try. Perhaps in telling you, I can better define where I am. Who I am.




It’s like standing in a vast desert, not knowing north from south, or east from west.

I am rooted into the soft, running sands but they keep unwelcoming me, telling me no roots can survive in these dry, forsaken grains. But I am overwhelmed with fear; I cannot move in any direction, so I sink myself deeper into the sands that have forsaken me.


It’s like knowing – on some level of consciousness – that I am alive but forgetting the very essence of what it means to be alive, so I breath, I sleep, I walk, all in oblivion.


It’s the reflex of knowing my name, yet having it sound foreign to my ears because no voice speaks it like his voice does. My name feels not like my name if not breathed through his lips; even though it has always been my name.


It’s when I walk down the paths I know blindly; paths I have trod since childhood, yet now the scene feels like its déjà vu on repeat.


It is a shattered dream that I am gluing back together, like a child clumsily yet – in her head – meticulously does, thinking it will hold, thinking it will grow, thinking it will somehow come alive.

I just need to glue it back together, just let me glue it back together.


It’s not having you here and my mind whispering to me that, if you were, I would be at peace, then believing the lie I tell myself.


It is the wandering mind that predicts a delusional happy future, based on nothing other than the fact that I miss you. Nothing else. Nothing else. 


It is the constant state of missing you; the helplessness of not having you; the disillusioned thoughts that you are perfect even though I know you are not.


It’s a time of my life that I am wasting, yet investing. A time I wish I could focus on anything but what it is I am focusing on.


Merciless hope.


It’s when hope defies all logic as it drags me with it away from despair, when all I really need, all I really wish for is despair.


It’s where consciousness and hallucination meet; where the lines between dreams and reality blur and make me wonder which is which.


It is to love you and hate you at once; to want you and loath you at once; to know you and forsake you at once.


It is a million contradictions merged into one; smiles and melancholy; safety and fear; warmth and annoyance; all swarming in chaotic unity, all conspiring against me.


I know that the only comfort I will feel is in knowing, and I know that I will never really know.









The distance between your screams and mine

When we are facing each other,

Fighting with one another;

Then that of the silent resentment that lingers on long after.


The distance between our passionate lips as we make up,

When our skins throb with desire,

And the coldness melts with the fire;

Then that of the comfort of sleeping with you near.


The distance between what you see and what you believe;

What you hear and what you understand,

With the one person who truly knows you,

When they forsake you.


The distance between the air you breath and the seconds


That separate you from peace,


That bring you closer to me,


That soothe you back into knowing.


The distance between your voice and the silence

That holds it hostage in favour of your pride,

With ransom so dear it breaks the us in us,

Until we are once again two.


The distance between that silent understanding;

Of knowing meaning with no need for speech;

Of the home I feel with you here;

Of the loss I feel when you are gone.


The distance between your eternal thirst and water

That you try to hold in your palm;

That slips merrily through your fingers,

Mocking your urgency mercilessly.


The distance between our touching skin

When there is no more love;

When history is what binds us,

When all, yet nothing, is lost.

When nothing, yet all, is won.







Venus: The Final Battle


Artwork by: Yamen Elgamal



It was a moonless night, yet the darkness failed to prevail. The scene was obscene in an un-vulgar way; the canopy of tiny, bright specks of light that covered the Earth was truly breathtaking. It was one of the things she liked about modern times; the way humans have succeeded at turning night into day with electricity, and day into night with smog.

She rested her hands on the metal rod that supposedly protected humans from falling off into oblivion at such height, whether by accident or intentionally. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to clear her mind after a long millennium of battle with the other gods; a battle she had won, but that left her feeling defeated.

It was never easy being a goddess, especially among other greedy divinities the likes of Jupiter who almost always abused his powers for his personal amusement, as if humans were toys to be played with for his own pleasure. During their last Vinalia Urbana festival, Jupiter had poisoned her wine with lust before serving it to the mortals and almost relinquished her powers of love and beauty into nothing. Humans, being the naive species that they are, believed that love was lost and a millennium of darkness began instantly. Mothers abandoned their newborns, fathers ceased to protect their families, knights broke their oaths to their kingdoms and the very essence of humanity was twisted beyond repair.

A long and devastating battle had begun between her and Jupiter where she; Venus, Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sex was forced to use treachery, infidelity, seduction and hypocrisy to undo what Jupiter had done to the mortals. A full millennium; a hundred hundred years had passed since that day. The damage that was done to humanity was catastrophic! The damage that was done to her was just as grave. The tragic methods she had used to win this battle had left scars and bruises on her divine soul. She thirsted for the love she had not seen in all those centuries. She despised the means she was forced to use to undo the damage that Jupiter had done, which is why her conquest weighed heavily on her heart.

It was that thirst for love that beckoned her to the sacred, untouched lands of great Egypt. These realms were immune to any of the turmoil that Jupiter had ever caused. Egyptians had their own gods; and those gods had protected their people well; exempting them from any of the aftermath of godly Roman battle or play. For thousands of years, the sacred, protective shield that surrounded this land remained strong, never bickering to the pressures of the creatures – or creators – that existed beyond them.

Cairo had always fascinated her! It was a city filled with vigour and the way its modernity diffused into its ancient past never ceased to amaze her. Wanting to absorb the magnificence well, she chose the pinnacle of Cairo Tower as her refuge. From up here, the city’s beauty and robust nature were a sight for sore eyes; a healing for a burdened heart. To know these lands are left untouched by cruel divinity gave her solace. She felt her healing process had already begun and the regaining of her forgotten, unused powers would soon take place.

With her eyes still closed and her focus entirely on breathing, she willed herself into betterment. One by one, she let her defences dissolve and her armour of fierceness come apart slowly. She allowed her beauty to emerge from underneath the layers of tension that had hidden it for so long. She let her hair down, felt the breeze caress her skin and willed away the turmoil in her soul.

This woman that was emerging from the ashes was the Venus she knew. Feeling the tickles of excitement run up and down her spine, she anticipated the return of her sanity, and of love in her immortal life. The love that she had abandoned for the sake of humankind, and that she now needed and desired more than newborns needed the bosoms of their mothers.

Atop that high tower, the Venus that she knew was now returning. She felt the gratification of knowing she had come to the right place to rejuvenate and breathe new life into herself. She allowed the energy to seep through her and revive the senses she had lost over those long centuries of battle. She could now see beauty, touch happiness, taste pleasure.

As her senses returned, she let her defences fall further, lower and lower until she felt almost helpless, almost fearful.

And that was when she smelled it.

It was a stench, a faint stench that caught her off guard and slightly disturbed her. She willed it away, trying to focus on her healing, but it persisted. It grew stronger with every passing moment, as if it was willing her into recognition. She tried again to dispose of it, but it persevered. Slightly perplexed, she gave in to it and breathed it in.

Almost instantly, her entire being came to full alert. Her eyes flew wide open into glares of agony, her muscles tensed rigidly into shock, her head flew backwards as she opened her mouth to gasp, then toppled over in convulsion. She let out a monotone, hollow scream as the pain crashed into her body, knocking the air out of her lungs, brittling her muscles into rust and stabbing holes through her being with what seemed to be a blunt, jagged dagger.

Still huddled over, slowly willing the pain away and sorely regaining her strength. She readied herself for another breath of that stench, but this time willed the pain away as she focused on recognizing these forsaken fumes of humanity.

Patiently, deliberately, anxiously, she took a slow, long intake of the odour that weighed on her atmosphere, carefully willing the pain to stay at bay. Her face contorted with disgust as the particles penetrated her body. She recognized the abhorrent smell far too well. It hadn’t left her senses for a full millennium. It had stained and tainted her with its evil powers during the entirety of her battle. Those were the fumes of dominance and surrender; of anger and fear; of spite and yielding. They were the quintessence of hateful contradiction; of prejudiced use of power; of surrender to victimization; of dehumanized humanity.

Those were the fumes she had come here to eradicate from her memory, they were the human excretions caused by the extortion of the gods and their selfish abuse of power.

How in the name of the Heavens had they found their way to the sacred, pure lands of Egypt? How had its people transformed into these complex, dominating victims of desire?

As the sun slowly began to stain the night sky with splashes of light and blood, she realized the atrocious truth.

Her gods had nothing to do with this monstrous transformation; as a matter of fact, her gods had nothing to do with the hideousness of the entire past millennium. They merely unleashed what was there all along, trapped and struggling for freedom behind walls of delusion, of care, of love, of so-called humanity.

The humans had evil in them all along. They carry their darkness with them everywhere, oppressing it, yet wishing to release it upon each other.

The humans wait for the first and slightest chance to rip their humanity apart and let out the beasts they harbour within them.

And the first chance they got, they did.

This is how they want to live. This is who they truly are.

This is all they deserve.

With another monotone, hollow scream, she ceased her healing and willed away the softness that had returned to her existence. She needed it no more; it was useless, pointless. She had no love to give if there was no one there to take it. She had no mercy to show if no one there wanted to accept it. She could not transform evil to good if no good was left.

With despair, and determination, she uncurled her roughened body into a stand and looked the now bright sun straight in the eye.

Defiant, coarse, unmerciful, she proclaimed love dead.

This is not a world that wants love; these are not creatures that deserve love. They will thus live without it until they are extinguished from this Earth. Let them live loveless. Let them exist loveless. Let them die loveless.

With that, a sad, burdened and melancholic smile crept its way across her lips.

“At least – one day – they will die,” she thought. “If only I could die. If only I could die.”







Of tomorrow…



The road ahead is my sunset;

Spectacular, yet calm and confident.

Echoing the pangs of a tumultuous day;

Of a rainy morning,

Of a cloudy afternoon,

Of the stormy night before.

Reminiscing on windy struggles with self;

Scarred by hail and debris from hurricanes long passed.

But the sunset; the horizon, is now clear.

The memories hover somewhere behind, but not with pain.

The lessons learnt are carved in the atmosphere,

But the blood has long ago dried.

Its stains now form the brilliance that is the splash of a dying sun,

The energy, distorting colour with its flamboyant, volatile self;

All coming together into the life I call my own,

All shaping me into the woman that was yet unknown.

All readying me for my sunset and all that it might be;

A sunny morning tomorrow, or another hurricane of me…