I’m a porcelain doll with skin as white as a fresh mind and as soft as a razor’s edge; my infinitely long, black-as-day hair falls upon my expressionless eyes and ruby red lips, touching my fragile shoulders - the world’s to break, the world’s to keep. Dust penetrates the cracks in my back, crossing my spineless trunk and going through me like an ageless hourglass. I’m a daughter of humanity, orphaned by nature, unworthy of flaw and condemned to perfection. My static mind is unable to wake in this pleasantly vicious place of unrelenting change. I’m incapable of sensation yet I feel more than humanly possible - feelings of emptiness in an empty mind; emotions of non-emotion. My home is laughter and children’s tears accumulated in cups of spilled milk, where there are no doors and the entrance is locked. Some come in, but remain in darkness because of the excessive light and joy. They are wet and I must dry them with my false airs of incompetence and doubt and I’ve drowned in it. My ceramic lungs have darkened with age and I only breathe in solidity, solitude and unwanted immortality. My wrists are fractured, but all I bleed is my existence; real blood is beyond me, I’mperfection.

I used to think I was better than that.
Now I realize that alcohol is the equalizer of the masses.

February is death.
Watch the red water
Flow from the cracks in our skin;
Symbol of us,
of what we once were.
Fragile air;
don’t break it.
Let it blow against my skin;
let the cold make me shiver;
let the warmth remind me
of better days

Blessed little blade,
imagine the stories you'll be able to tell
once I'm done with you,
the dreams you'll have made come true.
You were the only thing true to me
in this world of
hardness and matter,
the only one who listened.
I'm all right. Yes.
I'm all right.

Bashayer Khatib
Ville : Montreal
Vie : Poesie, beaute
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