Bored Till Death

Death is a beautiful woman
drenched in blue velvet
while smoking green
in the afternoon.

Death loves black cats
bare skin and constant
colorful melodies and
tunes .

Her red lipstick on the wall
Sweet traces of sweat and tears
Untouched sand and seashores
Red blood moon and a call.

Death is a tight palm tree skirt
And a vintage scarf over her neck
loud screams and several whispers
through the long morning hours.

Death is long lonely summer nights
powdery soft ivory kisses
infinite space within four walls
playful sea lions in the air.

Death is my boredom filling
my empty room and bed
writing on the wall:
”bored till death”
I might as well die

Death is not being
there together.

Copyright 2014

All rights reserved, Asmaa Lotfy

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Red Sky

I don’t know about today
or tomorrow or
after tomorrow
Vagueness spreads over
meaningless calenders
and untouchable changing
hours.

We are only wasting time
floating over naked mattresses
painting the unknown
Embracing light and fearing
darkness as it takes me away.

I don’t care if I turn into ashes
tomorrow or disappear through
my sleep tonight.
I won’t mind dissolving through
air and a red sky.

Mud and dark fall scent
over repetitive morning coffee
and stale cigarettes with
old foolish spirits.

She writes out of boredom
out of erotic tendencies
slipping through her mind
like black silk undergarments
and gods kissing swiftly through
different dimensions and worlds.

She changes with different seasons
not knowing what to expect
losing and gaining silence
and in between:
she feels everything and she feels
nothing
losing some of her braincells
and hurting her ability to
memorize.

Staying any longer
will only destroy than
create.
Too much suffocation.

Running out of time.

Copyright 2014

All rights reserved, Asmaa Lotfy

Thoughts on Suicide + personal random thoughts

-It’s mentally and emotionally exhausting when you try to do your best making ppl comfortable ,taking care of details, trying to be the understanding stable person.
Eventually, you’ll always be the one doing mistakes, not trying hard enough or simply not appreciated. And you know how it feels ? It feels like shit ! It feels like a conversation you might have with Samuel Beckett . Your expectations of kindness and affection don’t really go well.
You’ll eventually also get lost through your self, emotions and might have a silent, isolated emotional break down. If no one cares about how you feel, then why should you care all the time ? You’ll always be blamed for how you behave, then it’s better to openly behave as your self since you’ll be blamed either ways.

-The human nature is complex. We are born alone and we die alone.
We won’t be buried with our loved ones, yet we always seek companionship, love, attention and consolation. We long for the human connection. We feel the necessity to be appreciated.  Some ppl move beyond the emotional stream and face the cruelty of life on their own. Those would probably easily and comfortably accept death as the end, life as the existential crisis that one must confront and the complexes of the self. But others feel the depth of loneliness and can’t face the cruelties all alone.

-I will always remember Albert Camus‘ statement ” There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.”

Suicide is a way out of a gruesome reality. A decision that this life is not what one wants. I don’t see it as an escape. I see it as a brave confrontation with life. A direct statement that the person shall not accept a life that was not his choice, a life that is full of reckless down straight violence and pain.

Thomas Szasz , a Hungarian philosopher, once said : ”suicide is the most basic right of all. If freedom is self ownership—ownership over one’s own life and body—then the right to end that life is the most basic of all. If others can force you to live, you do not own yourself and belong to them .”

Jean Amery, an Austrian writer, says : ””we only arrive at ourselves in a freely chosen death”

That doesn’t mean that I look down or don’t appreciate people who hold on to our known reality and life. Those people decide to accept their existence and the forces of reality and also decide to react consequently. Belittling anyone’s quests,or ideals is a coward act . Life should be limitless, until of course you die.

I think Religion is the most depressing thing in the universe…. besides humans.

I don’t believe in the after life. I don’t believe in a heaven that highlights sex, food and alcohol as the highest points of an alternate life. If heaven should exist, then it should be something beyond such earthly needs.

Heaven is so boring. I prefer hell.

All the shit about leaving a trace behind you for humanity to remember you is just outright emotional manipulation . Humanity is the most selfish thing , with out of course the few people who were not selfish. 

Crying is not weakness. It’s cheap therapy.

No matter how much advice you are given, eventually the decision is yours and yours only for you will be the only person accepting responsibility for your actions.

Nature is one of the consolations we get for living in a cruel world, yet we don’t do our best to protect it.

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Pink Eyes

My walls are breathing.

I can hear every inhale

and exhale.

The texture is soft,

and apples aren’t always

bright on the inside.

I have restored their bodies

hanging quietly

on every side

staring silently at

my empty

bed.

Pink eyes

Immortal wickedness

and shameless desires.

The walls never judge

Never betray

Never hold a grudge.

Mother hates them

she despises our

thoughts.

Mother tore us apart.

Painted the walls

destroyed the cards.

But,

we are immortal.Image

Copyright 2013

All rights reserved, Asmaa Lotfy

Vanilla Scented Darkness

Amid all the dense weight ,

The negotiable notions of self redemption,

Amid the forgotten details

of a heavy damp fair map

lies the unspeakable thoughts and infatuations.

god loves sinners and imperfectionists

who spark the night with their endless yearnings.

god loves girls who wear black eye liner and fish nets

in a concert lamenting some morbid sides.

The soul’s intensity veiled with humanness

is trying to find a way out.

What is it about souls impersonating souls ?

The idealistic and insightful vitamins

found in a spinal cord are moving

where nothing can be found.

White matter turns into soft anarchy

feeding over a splendid voice and

some Vanilla scented darkness.

It’s dark, damp and resplendent

like a pink necropolis ditching floating bodies.

Daring dashes and darling dusks

daydreaming dainty and delicacies

and downwards the map, hedonism is found.

 

Copyright 2013

All rights reserved, Asmaa Lotfy

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Infinite Words

Shapes and shadows lamenting over his partial existence

Creating epic stories and repaired cells that surround her mind.

People are copies sometimes, you never know which is real and

which is fake lurking around the corner waiting to eliminate you.

And through him, you disappear into the vast cosmic infinity with

nothing but meaningless words and desperate memories.

The warmth of his skin and transcendental cryptic eyes are

worth a thousand years of waiting in the void.

But waiting always comes with a price that is

to wither and fade every second for a million time.

To experience the absurd  pain smothering reality

that only exists in your dis-functional conscience.

 

The nothingness greets her with an invisible smile

The nothingness embraces her with penetrating arms

The nothingness suffocates her till she moves no more,

thinks no more and loves no more.

”Everything and everyone is meaningless, she says

And the meaningless words  don’t add much.”

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The Emptiness

The Emptiness:

In your head

In your soul

In your heart and

the words said before.

The Emptiness:

In your touch

In your eyes

In your laugh and

some vigorous cries

The Emptiness:

Is you and all

things related to

You.

The Emptiness:

Is more hollow and

transparent in your

presence.

The Emptiness:

Will turn into

Something when

You

Pull the trigger.

Pull the trigger.

 

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