ART

THE MAZE

in ,
 

The emptiness that is me cannot be filled with presence.
Cannot be satisfied with feelings.
Cannot be healed with tears,
Trails of smoke,
Or words.

The hollow existence of which I cease to be.
With nothing but the sounds of my waves of thoughts.
Crashing the walls of my mind.
The drops linger on my trembling hungry lips yet die young.

I am not what I once was.
I am not yet what I want to be.
I am stuck in a maze that I once thought was a straight line.
People that I once held on to left to find their way out.
and the longer I stay,
The more lost I get in the twists, twirls, and turns.

I am stuck.
I am trapped.
I am estranged.
Yet become familiar with the tiles and the cracks creeping up the seldom walls that are wrapped around me.
They never changed.
They never left.
And I start to wonder if I want to find my way back.

With nothing to lose,
I am empty. 
I am content.
And as close as I will ever be to happiness.

So I stop the race with time.
I stop running after the ghost of promises.
I plant my feet in the solid ground.
I dissolve in the paleness of the aging walls.

For the first time,
I stop.
I surrender.

 

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TEXT: DINA DIAB
ART: EMAN ALEGHFELI

أخطاء في مدونة بصرية

in

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ART: RADWA ABD EL MONIEM

CUPS

in ,

I tried to fill your cup
with happiness and love
I sent good vibes your way
I sat on my knees and prayed
for you to be joyous again
I fell asleep believing that my prayers will be answered

I woke up the next hour
with a pain in my chest and no happiness
I've sent you all I've got
every last bit
your sorrow became mine
and my joy was stranded somewhere between you and me
you did not accept it
you did not return it
you kept it around just incase
you took it for granted

I learned that your cup is yours and I can't fill it
and my cup is broken and only I can fix it

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TEXT & ART:
OMAMAH ASHMEEL

POSTCARD #8

in

Sobh bekheir,

I just woke up, thought I’d write you a couple lines. How are you feeling today? What are you doing all day? 

In all my dreams, I run back to you, we meet again in our arms, we meet again at the sea, we meet again in the sky.

Delam barat tang shodeh, I miss your perfume, the taste of your lips, the softness of your fingers caressing each square of my body, my skin shivering,

I need you like I need air. 

As soon as I am back, I’ll ask you something very important…

PS: I forgot to tell you, I found a beautiful green djellaba at the souk, I bought it for you. I know green is your favourite colour.

Asheghetam,
Bedrood.