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

Painful Lust

Struggle has a beautiful face
Her cries of pain is singing to my ears
Her moans of agony play a joyful melody
I thirst for her open wounds and lust after her broken nimble limbs
The clouds, oh how I miss the misty clouds where her tears mingle in the rain
Her touch is torture for every being, yet arousing
Astonishing is she when she bleeds
Appealing is she in her stained white dress
Breathtaking is she with every step she takes
She trips and stumbles gracefully again and again
Amusing is her suffering
She suffers and does not plead
She suffers with great joy

I, however, lust the painful lust