Rage – Musarat Ali

ImageThere are days when I mask myself into rage, out of pain. A constant pain. Of your wait. Of your surrounding. Of your aroma. Of your delicacy. Of your beauty.

In those days, I turn to oceans. Look at them with naked eyes. And grow a feeling of you holding my hand. Those oceans then rage into my eyes. My troubled eyes. My awaiting eyes.

And then those questions, those unanswerable questions. I drown in them. Carrying my own fault. With my own luck and your very soul. The depth grows every second till I touch the soil. And become a star. A dying star.


Trois Moments



Eyes, sealed, thoughts, convulsion, your facetiousness, reconstructed, every word, every moment, every laugh, constructing. Your epicures, your impertinence, when fills your expressions. And when the lights of laughter, kisses your lips. Feels like, jasmine flowers, half drowned, in the aromas, of flower streams… Idolum.

Ballads of the dreamless, clueless conversations, hopes, stories, emotions, truths, lies, laughs, tears, meaningless… Meeting.

Silence, promises, convulsion, separation, solitude, hopes, meanings, undefined, unfinished, untold, reconstructing, smiling… Leaving.