i want
something more than this
i want adventure and blood
and i want death to come up till my face
and i want to leave scathed
scars and haunted eyes
i want bigger stories
i want more than high school drama
and heartbroken teenagers
crushes are so last year
i want to run through a forest, beast
on my trail, fear
in my veins, adrenaline
making my feet fly over the foliage
i want a bigger life
i want a bigger story
i want to be bigger
a folk figure
someone who is a myth
shrouded with enigmatic fog
i want to be the mermaid
who moves like she is the ocean,
with the waves and the tides,
she cries pearls and
tears apart pretty men
i want to be the white swan
untouchable, by the grassy river bank
and i want to be part of a revolution
egypt, cloth on my face, dust in the air
fists upheld, voice one amongst a crowd of hundreds
young blood, angry futures
i want fucking passion
real wild vivid passion
i want more, more, more
i want to be part of a war
dancing, utterly heartbroken,
at the end of the day
in a run down bar
where the men have long faces and sad orange drinks
and someone is raging over the piano
fingers flying in violent fashion over the black and white keys
and i want to dance all night
like the dancing plague of france
i'll dance till my feet bleed and burn and leave red all over the dance-floor
a hundred million stories
they're all out there
and i'm in here
and i'm going fucking wild
arabic music
like the soundtrack to a movie about
espionage and violence
god, i can't stay still anymore,
i can't i can't
and i can't stop writing
i can't i can't
and so i
i went to the outskirts the other day
and what did i see?
she is a dead little cat
lying by the side of the road
paws as small and round as the tip of my pinky
on her side, helpless,
somewhere that's not home
my father brought his hands together in a clap
and a murder of crows scattered into the sky
i wanted to help the dead kitten
should i have buried her?
would she have contaminated me?
my mother said the year i was born was when a big Iraqi hid in a cave after his entire family was slaughtered
She said it kept her sane
to think about the iraqi
it was much better to live with your husband's evil queen mother than to be the loveless iraqi in the dark cave
factories are menacing, the sound of cranes like something brutal and criminal
the face of a bus, its menacing mouth,
the year 2014, when a girl was thrown out of a bus after being eaten alive by men, i was 7, my mother and i say her name,
nirbhaya,
fearless
i walked home with mumma's callused hand in my own
i
i think i'm going to go mad
if i stay here
