Death of a Salesman.

Archaic scriptures like manuscript pages from ancient history,
claim my sanity possessing me in my entirety.
Have I blind faith that I follow without any question,
leaping before I looked into the madness that is like a loaded weapon? 

 
Concealed behind your web of lies I find only consternation,
cajoled as though a prize meant to console pageant queens that failed their nations. 
Prehistoric means conceived by patriarchal men,
capture me then set me free and entrap me once again.  

 
Go ahead, that is all that you're good at,
reap what you sow then sow what you get. 
Entranced, whirling like the dervishes seduced by Sufism, you are my religion,
perhaps I needed more time to prepare for the icy cold, your only provision.  

 
Like knives, the sharpness of your tongue gored me like a butcher with a vendetta,
each utterance like gunpowder as though your words were fired at me from a Beretta. 
Raise the roof, turn the house down like jezebel,
double double toil trouble me with your wicked spells.  

Even from beyond the grave, you still wreak havoc in my soul,
I lost my head when I found your guillotine romance that made me grow old.
You poisoned me with poetry as I read between the lines.
intoxicated me with your insolence that you turned into wine.

Close it off, you were close enough but it all falls apart, shut it down,
complacency became your own enemy and now you're six feet underground.
Let it fall apart, silence in our final moments, do not make a sound.
Emancipated, wiser now that I understand what it means to be lost and found.

Self-Image.

For all the times you are dressed your best,
but feel you look your worst.
When your flaws seem magnified,
and like life cannot get any worse.

Stop, and catch your breath,
then look again at your reflection.
Perhaps people will be inspired by your imperfections,
it could even be their greatest lesson.

Your body is the only one that you will ever get,
whether you are slim, muscular, or even heavyset,
If you find it difficult to love the skin that you are in,
turn your gaze inwards and you will find the beauty within.

Stand tall, and hold your head up high,
soon you will begin to see your allure in others' eyes.
Learn to hear the stories behind every scar,
and just remember that you are as unique as the stars.

Stalin.

Eyes glazed, yet still peeled for the off chance that I may still catch sight of you,
starving for your touch, the slightest glimpse
would even suffice and nourish me,
like the most hearty stew.

Desperate, I know, but I can't go a day without thinking of you,
fuel for my mind, my brain drinks you like wine,
I find its intoxication is something that I cannot undo.
I made a wish, a promise to the universe, to remain loyal as long as it came true.

You are the stars, the galaxies, the comets,
and even the planets with all their moons.
I only need look to the sky and see
the planes passing through the night to be transported back to you.

Sitting here questioning why life behaves the way it does,
with twists at every corner, turning me inside out
just like scary movies do; you filled me with such hope then left me barren,
now I'm drowning in the blues.

I watch you sing and harmonize from afar,
I am still your biggest fan,
no amount of hurt inside my heart
could stop the love I'm still feeling.

I know that I am pitiful for staying stuck to you,
somehow our love like pixie-dust worked like crazy glue.
I know I'll never hear you say you want to be mine ever again,
despite being cognizant of this, I cannot stop hoping.

My closest friends demand that I get over you,
yet I will not give up or let go until you do too.
Delusional for remaining convinced that you could ever crave me again,
perhaps my psychosis can be explained best by my resistance to change.

Fooled me once, fool me twice,
and then do it again because I have no shame.
Play me, tease me, detest me,
it all feels the same now anyway.

My prayers are just a mantra now that I
repeat them even when they remain unheard,
they escape from my lips into the atmosphere
then simply disappear.

Hail Mary, hallelujah,
bismillah, just give me sight,
guide me away from this relentless void,
return me to the light.

How much longer can I be more pathetic than the bird that refuses to fly,
I will keep my back turned to you until you are a stranger to my eyes.
Devoid of attention, the affection that I have for you will surely die;
congratulate yourself for losing the love of the only city to ever tolerate your war-crimes.

Sam.

Dearest Sam, I know it's been a while since I've written, but you always said that complacency was the enemy of our condition.

How are you doing, my beauty queen? I hope that you and Moona are dancing on the sun,
that you have seen the world together, and that you are having endless fun.

It's been nearly four years to the day that I last saw your face, when your soul expired and decided that you'd had enough of this dreary place.

You were barely forty, a life taken from us far too soon,
at night, I lie awake in bed, and imagine us running hand in hand, exploring the surface of the moon.

Even though you may be gone, you have never been this alive,
your laughter in my mind is so loud sometimes, that I can almost swear that you survived.

Living in this city that we shared, everywhere I go is home to your ghost,
those are the moments I hold on to the tightest, that is when I miss you most.

The heartache of losing you will never disappear,
although I accept the loss, it is still my greatest fear.

You raised me to be strong, showed me how to stand taller than the rest,
the least that I can do to repay you, is ensure that I stay blessed.

My confidence was lacking until you showed me how to love myself,
I swear I would not be the man I am today if it weren't for your help.

I watched you from a distance, emulated your communication style, and even the way you only revealed your troubles to your pen,

more than just losing a sister, I grieve the loss of my best friend.

Sometimes, I am perfectly fine then suddenly reminded of you,
then these tears escape from my eyes, even in public, and drown me in the blues.

It could be in something as simple as hearing a song you loved, or the fragrant smell of jasmine, which was always your favourite scent,

even meeting someone with your name fills my heart with wistful merriment.

Either way, my darling girl, please know, that the absence of roses on your grave does not mean that you do not reside in my heavy heart,
my soul belongs to you, my eternal beloved, and awaits the day when we are no longer apart.

With all the unconditional love in the world, your brother Kashif.

❤