The typewriter
types inconsistent
like the beat of my heart
suffering in Silence.
Silence suffocates me
These nameless formless words confront me
and tie me up
concrete blocks tied to my feet
Sinking deeper into an Ocean of
Hell
Little wonder how i manage to sleep
every night.
Silence kills me daily
as i go, say my prayers and close my eyes.
So every night i fear the hours
the minutes with the voiceless walls.
Only mine in the yellow room.
Echoing and bouncing off the walls built on the firm of the Earth
Like a dust i am
This whirlwind taking me up
height and higher
till i reach There.
Nothing is There
No heaven, No hell, No thousand of angels meeting me at the gate.
Only there is my blissful darkness.
The coffin i rest my head.
This coptic writer, still there
at his end, maniac and depressed. Like a
Grovelling dead
I just want to hear the voices
I just want to hear your voice.
Ghostly reconstructions only resurface and you are hidden
They don't amuse me.
Doing what you do best
The expert worker as i lay there bare and naked as you
do what you do best : Killing me
whispering, " my love"
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