tears

are meaningless

in hindsight of a wrong,

they do not belong;

tears

are regrets

that hate what is already gone,

and can't be undone;

tears

are memories

of passionate angry love,

raining from above;

tears

are promises

repenting sorrowfully,

never to be fully

forgiven

If you're the sun, then,

I will become your moon.

So let me breathe in your air,

let me burn in your presence

and become the winds

that strengths your flames

and lets these

blazing flames dance across my skin,

and in my bones. (I want

to burn)

I want you close,

ear against your heart

as you hold me in the

light of the day,

the sun’s scorching heat

carving marks across my soul,

until the scars are visible.

I hate you,

yet, I love you.

If you're the sun, then,

I will become your moon.

So love me unconditionally,

and kiss these scars you made,

kiss these dried trails of tears, (I want

to burn.)

There're constellations carved in my soul,

connecting me to you,

the lines are wavering and jagged,

yet, undoubtedly,

it's forcing,

my heart to beat for you,

even if it is in pieces,

broken and battered and

even if the rhythm

is out of beat, and our hearts,

out of sync.

sometimes, we forget,

but, the sun

is a star too. (I want

to burn)

I hate you,

I love you.

I wield a machete, slashing through thicket and vine to get to the words I need to bring you closer to where I am because you asked me what it’s like.

I bubble up from the slime that fills my lungs to meet your hand outreached to pull me back to where the rest of you live, just one more time.

I crawled out from under that dark rock where I was cool and calm and unembarrassed and in control, to meet you in the din of overstimulation and judgement, just in case I could still function there.

I stood in the light and waited for your warmth and the rescue of your breath and your eyes and your shoulder.

I waited there as it grew cold and started to rain on my nude and ugly body, everyone staring and wondering what was wrong with me.

You proudly drew me out and put a bow on it and smiled and called it a gift, while I shook and shuddered and felt alone in a room full of people.

Realizing you don’t understand what I am going through, and don’t want to, and won’t, is the worst pain I have ever endured.

You try to place me where I once fit, like a part of a puzzle you have been working on as a labor of love; that would be unnervingly incomplete if a piece went missing.

Your compulsion and denial pass over my pain like an eclipse, silencing me, beautifully.

It has been a hundred years since something interesting happened. Experts and scientists mistakenly predicted that humans would continue to evolve and become more creative with technology by their side. They have, instead, turned into dull creatures. Predictability and monotony are the proper characteristics to describe our modern human being. Their quality of life turned into something disappointing, as they slowly stumbled down from their pedestal of epicness into their current aridity. They abandoned their curiosity and abruptly turned into indifferent beings with purposeless lives.

By November 2018, the last human achievements were carried out, among them the discovery of immortality - the one cause for human’s decline into their insipidity. Humans were blinded by their abusive nature. One peek - one scent - of immortality, and they were inescapably drawn by its dangerous beauty, its wholesomeness, its promise for a life-changing adventure. By the end of 2018, humanity had already yielded to immortality. It was spread like a disease - a curious one, as a fact; an epidemic that didn’t kill, but kept you from dying. Which was worse, in so many ways.

2019 was the first year in which absolutely nothing happened. No more scientific discoveries needed to be made - they were not of immediate urgency anymore. Diseases required no cure, for they were no longer a threat. Funnily enough, when humans abolished death’s unpredictability, they turned the rest of their lives into a predictable set of events.