Thursday, September 17, 2015


Music on
then words on paper
black and white,
he prefers colors
Blue mostly, then orange and purple-

Its not too late. 12:58 am.
The water leaks in the bath tub-
The sound of the fridge. Hums.
It hums.

3 minutes have passed by
It feels pretty calm. Water drip drops
drip dropping into the drain of bad plumbing.

The squinted light of unforgotten memory
begins to fade away
Memory of sight
of dim lights
candles and romance-
Memory of love
pictures of friendly hugs and intimate kisses
Even memory of smell
Oriental fragrances and Lebanese cuisine

1:11 am. He closes his eyes.
He makes a wish (superstitious of number 7)
Drip drop drip drop drip drop (fading)
and the volume of the speaker
seems to get louder
and louder

He takes one deep breath
and gradually sinks
sinks into the “what ifs” of his life-
music heard—song recognized
random lyrics
“what if god was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Trying to make his way home”…
words scatter on the shores of
his relaxed mind
free from existential meaning

he tries to think of god
without judgment
without punishment
without religion
he tries to think of slob
without dirt
without slime
without shit
he tries to think of home
without family
without safety
without love

free from existential meaning

and he sinks into a state of REM
down the winding subconscious
and reaches the doorway of his slumber
and there,  just before total submission
to embracing the warmest silence-
he quickly blinks (so as to not lose his drowsiness)
at his watch:
its 1:34 am.
He is ready now.
ZS. 22-9-14

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