- in the name of Allah -


stay awake or go to sleep, either way the boogeyman slowly closer creeps. fears and fancies cant stay buried under rugs any longer so they run amok in the world i call home but feel is a prison where company only means being alone. people shake their heads and stamp their feet, amazed that one such as me should prod along in the subterranean living barely as if life was an aquarium for someone else to live out their lives. being sick has me on ropes, coughing and wheezing, an ancient bloke in the final moments wondering when the curtains close and the stage act is at last over. i reach around curves and bends, seeking a means or an end, purpose or truth, something to live by in a world reduced by the capitalist to a scramble for money, but lost in the mad rush is the thought of happiness in the rough of predetermined diamond mines. my quarry can't keep me away from that envyless existence, to chase the haggard with a mop and keep the cafe clean for more important visitors. people i long for are rarely the people i'm able to see, its all confounded to dust whence it came in an era bygone so simply. compartmentalize, trivialize, shrivel, hold strings for, watch them dance till they fall over dead not with a snivel or smile, frown or smear, but tears of sadness lost in the midst of the audience's applause, another invisible man remains tautly invisible to placate and amuse the logistically constant herder who appears all but immovable. need to catch some sleep before it catches me, a short death opening wide its arms in the dead of night, an embrace of warmthful illusion, beckoning to mindlessness, impervious to care but penetrable by reason, it withers slowly as the season is winter and the cold white consumes the lost, who bickered whilst retreating.