I’m chasing a fog in the glittering night,
From a machine like mine,
That i want to change , like me.
Im a repository of dreams,
They knock without any order,
Dreams don’t request,
And wind don’t ask to blow,
Rain don’t call you when you’re driving,
But they hold you when you’re down.
I belong to the walls behind,
Not the grounds ,
Not the parties,
Hoping to find someone standing by the wall,
I belong to the whispers at the night,
When I’m holding in myself,
Hoping to hold out art.
I know that art is pain,
And it’s the only way we can continue without being dead,
But my notebooks are full,
And gifts needs people,
And i can’t find any shops,
That sell me,
Nor any people,
That get me,
Nor any mirror,
That see you.
So I’ll wake up tomorrow,
I’ll be good to my mom,
Make tea,
Make my heart again,
To cut it all out,
To cut out, into a blank space,
Hoping to find someone standing on the wall there,
Write on the blank spaces left,
Until there’s nothing left,
But someone who was me.
zaki monzer 