Noise

You know the feeling. When you park the car and turn off the engine, you’re suddenly all-too-aware of just how loud everything was in the ‘background’…only it’s not background noise when there are no other sounds being made. No music, no speech, nothing else to focus on…yet all that engine sputtering and roaring and revving is ‘background’ noise.

It’s the same feeling you get in that first millisecond before you open your eyes when you first wake up – except in reverse. The point is: my brain is noisy. It’s like a beehive…and I can no longer call it background noise…because this is my life, at least 70% of the time. That never-ending engine drone. Beehive drone, whatever. Maybe I need more focus.

At the airport…

…and up strides this man, dressed like religion and shoving his beliefs in my face. He has an air of “you’re all entitled to my opinion” about him. It may not be his intention to influence me in any way…not me specifically, but he screams without words and my ear drums are pounding.

I don’t blame him. I don’t even blame the indoctrinating society that made him this way. I don’t blame myself for feeling…afflicted. And I don’t blame the same society that pushed me in the other direction.
We’re all born with it. Loneliness. Solitude. It’s DNA. Or genetics. Or nature. Or something. That’s why we have urges. To pass seed. To receive seed. To create. To procreate. To pass the time. To preoccupy ourselves. For a few minutes…and then for a lifetime.

But it fills no gaps. When we’re not preoccupied, we still want not to feel alone. In a crowd of everyone else’s ‘procreative needs for togetherness’ (or ‘people’, if you will) and still looking for more. So we give it names. Then we create rules. To explain it. Or rather, to explain why there is no explanation for it. And we give that a name. Till it takes on the form of an Asimovian robot; a life of its own to control our lives. We don’t know what’s good for us, right? Only human. Only lonely.

Not ironic that what saves us is what’s going to kill us all, then. Separation. Righteousness. Blood. War. Not very effective. Seems like we’re just delaying it a little bit. Afraid of what we say is coming, maybe.

Half way isn’t

I’m only half-full of hope

Ever the realist

Ever so balanced

Wistfully blissful

But perfectly sane

I’m only half-way there

…and hopeful

Please

Promise me nothing

And I’ll thrive on my own

Hard to Comprehend

It’s hard to comprehend an aching in your chest

If it doesn’t happen every day

Then are you truly missing someone?

 

Harder to comprehend is when you’re feeling it this strongly

Why are you even questioning it?

.waiting.

wait·ing/ˈwātiNG/Noun

1. The action of staying where one is or delaying action until a particular time or until something else happens

 

Waiting for something that's not on its way

A silent inaction; deliberate delay

 

Waiting, breath bated, for a feeling to pass -

 

Thinking of something, of nothing, of needing

The skin on my fingers, like my heart still bleeding

 

Thinking it’s over, was not meant to last -

 

Tasting betrayal at the tip of my tongue

The words are not forming, but it soon won’t be long

 

Tasting a future that faded too fast -

 

Denying me sanity or my peace of mind

Delusional cravings I must leave behind

 

Denying betrayal, you pitiful ass -

كان: فعل ماضي - مبني على حكي فاضي

:قل لي

…كوني مجرَد كائن في الكون

كيف لي أن أكون؟