It's dark in there

something is broken now
too much been said
to wipe it clean somehow

darkness abounds
heaviness weighs my heart
round and round and round

note to self

"A-mama, ba7ebet."

Chapter One

 

Amsheer. He was born in the desert, on the first day of that stormy month known as Amsheer.

He was born in that moment when time is still. When the air has been yellow and unbreathable, and then the manic rains fall, cleansing the earth and all that dwell upon it. That silent moment in between when the sun hangs as a sullen disc of rock, and when its life is returned to it - burning dust and breaking hearts; the giver of life and its foretold reaper.

How exquisite he was, unlike any other. He bore no resemblance to any of his kin; it was as if he had been born to the desert herself, that she and her unceasing bedfellow, the night, were the sole providers of his genes. 

His father winced as Amsheer was bundled into his arms. He had caught a glimpse of golden hair stained with blood in the eruption of activity that had surrounded his wife’s limp and lonely body. Now, on closer inspection, he found himself peering into a pair of raven eyes. 

He lamented. He looked from this unfamiliar child, this strange fruit, to the naked body of his lost wife, and he lamented. The price paid for life to find this child was too heavy.

In the place of congratulations, the abrasive palm of condolence was now grasping his hand. In the place of the long anticipated celebrations, there would be an immediate funeral. 

In the place of love, a bearable numbness grew within his chest. 

As the wails of affliction rose to meet with a greeting of thunder from the sky, he placed the newborn on the sand beneath his feet and looked away. He resolved never to look into those eyes again. 

Thus the child was named Amsheer, in his father’s mind the harbinger of storms and sorrow.

WTF?

x - are you seeing someone?

- (hysteria) if i wanted to fucking cheat on you, i wouldve done it years ago

x - lets not part with hate

- i dont hold any hard feelings towards you

x - good, thats all i want. but wear this like an earring, like a necklace around your neck; even after we part, you still have a partner - for life. even though i wont talk to you. you'll feel i dont
care, but i will. i wont call, i'll wait for you to call. we're two good people, the two of us, and we shouldnt lose each other.

- erm..we have a son..

x - apart from that, we should stick together, cause we're both good people.

- you never said that about me before

x - yes i did, you just never heard me

- no, you never said that to me before

x - well you are a good person, you love better, you treat people better, than i do. just so that this is clear, we're divorcing? just so i am not assuming anything, we're divorcing, not seperating?

- yes

x - consider yourself divorced, as of now.

Dull

They start as dull niggling flashes at the back of the head, voices of different tones and pitches, rising, reaching a peak. That’s when you realise they’re behind the bedroom door, and that they’re real and that they are fighting voices.It’s five am and I lock the bedroom door from the inside, just in case. My new stinking home. It’s not just the dog’s piss. It’s the stench of failure. Of hopelessness. Of waiting for God. Of unconditional love that’s conditional. Of money that’s hard to earn and easy to spend. Of defeat. Of complacency. Most of all it’s the stench of mediocrity.

That was last night. This morning he said I was like a dead person. It’s not that I am incapable of love as I once thought, it is just that I find it, the reality of it, so utterly disappointing. It is always so much more attractive to live in the mind than have to deal with what is real and possible, and within reach. Therefore I choose dreams over reality. I always was quite good at amusing myself.

You are God's gift and I pray that you don't have to pay for my stupid mistakes.

Last Paragraph

“It’s the human condition,” she said, “to be afraid of change, to be afraid of the unknown.” But that was not her fear.

Her fear was the human condition.

Dead Man...Part 2

At the time, my reactions were raw. They ripped right through me. Last night, at the sight of the dead man, all I felt was indifference. We were driving past on our way to a late dinner; there was an unusual amount of traffic on this particular road. At first sight of the police I thought it was one of those lagna’s. I gave the driver my cigarette, sat up properly in my seat and proceeded to look all sweet and innocent. As we edged closer I realised that there was a crowd in the middle of the road, and that cars on either side were being waved on, they were slowing down to look at something hidden from my view. I knew it was an accident. In between the tight spaces in the crowd, which for a dead person was surprisingly small, I saw an object. Egyptians like to gather at the tiniest sign of trouble; I guess a person once dead is no longer seen as trouble. The object was his body.

I told the person driving not to look, to just keep moving, whilst I stared and took in every detail. Instinctively I wanted to protect his eyes from seeing such a scene. Once we had got past and the road was freed up once again, we moved quickly as if running from something. “I’ve lost my appetite,” he said. “It was his time,” I responded. And we ate the meat.