I am aroused by every syllable escaping her lips
She talks in riddles
She mumbles the truth
She exhales, I inhale
The pothole of a junkie

A shattered skeleton, I fall
A disabled man, I fall
A modern Sisyphus, I fall

We will rise as the sun sets
We are creators and the night breeds inspiration,
So meet me under the moonlight and leave your mask at home

Home is where the hurt is
Do look back but don’t stare for too long
Now close your eyes and breathe
Breathe slowly…

She pours out herself into the darkness
She moans the truth, her truth
I whisper the truth, my truth

A revived skeleton, I stand
A disabled man, I stand
A modern Sisyphus, I stand!

Now shut your mouth against mine, for there is no truth; only gibberish

Thus spoke IbnRishdi

Caveman Blues

A caveman speaks to a rock:

Are you food?
Are you shelter?
Do you feel the cold weather?
Do you feel the time passing?
Are you time?
Where is time?
What is crime?
How should I spend the daytime?
It’s either dinner time or war time
Therefore I’m a carnivore.

Why aren’t you talking back?
Did I say something offensive?
What does being offensive even mean?
Being mean?
But what does being mean mean?
To talk?

You’re not mean my rock.
You don’t even talk.