Monday, 10 October 2016


I float midway and sit
in obedience
to the ever-longing screw-with-yer-mind
they cannibalize,
stuff down,
yer vital bits.
treat you like pic n mix.
you are 'living' in an air-balloon, so mediocre
through sheets of plastic hastily painted magenta
hot air is puked in every direction.

Friday, 2 September 2016

Flu Blues

I've the flu blues,
a chest full of avoided situations
that could have been chucked
in an altered reality
or medicine.
a sticky mess pushes through
stubby knuckles flail
she fatigued retires to
the fever boudoir and stiff chair.

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

The Big Bad World (out there) Part 1

We are a homebody family. We like the indoors and spending time joking, shoving, loving, and having our own private space within the realms of the house.

We spend hours on our gadgets and television -  meeting people or going out is less satisfying than the matrix reality we virtually own. 

And I'm not shaming anyone here. I am equally guilty for making this house a multi-generational introverted tech-absorbed enclave. 

But I want to know if I can ever divorce myself from the dream state that I have constructed (this very blog I am posting on, or the thoughts in my head). This means unstrapping myself from ideas - to practically doing stuff to escape my pain in real life. 

Yes 'real life', the tangible and feel-able is the sheep in wolf's clothing that I am unsure/frightened of.


What is really out there for me, anyway? Moving out would inevitably mean losing touch with relatives which means losing the human contact freely 'there' at my family home.

I am not brave at all.  I am very content with being used to things and abiding/living by it.

I sometimes imagine what it would be like to live alone. My live alone fantasy always cuts itself short when I realize I'd be (drum-roll) ... alone!

To be continued...

Monday, 22 August 2016

Exit Matrix

I want to break free
we shall overcome -
many a song say. 
the chains made me adapt to this life
of hyper blurring 
Is my mum really a mum?
Or an alien in the finery of a Somali lady
What am I?
I ask everyday since 15 days ago.
I thought of every conspiracy theory under the sun
settled on the Truman Show for a few days
I was a living walking reality show
for those few days
now the blessed red flower has appeared
it appears my troubles have temporarily 
crept under my bed ready to disturb
after the cycle expires.

Sunday, 31 July 2016

Repentant Soul

She watches their moves
She here. They there.
She can't go back in time
The Laws of God forbid it
And they don't want her
She smiles with depressed glee
Goes back to her real identity
Well, the one acceptable
to society
And finds solace in reality.

Friday, 29 July 2016

Do friendships matter?

I can think of a few friends that I can semi-rely on, perhaps one that is thoroughly consistent. Having and maintaining relationships outside of family whilst going through personal issues is never easy.

Keeping and finding friends whilst diagnosed with any serious illness, physical and mental, is a strain and headache in itself. 

Sometimes I wish I could be friends with no-one. That way I wouldn't have to deal with the 'friends' that treat you beneath or as competition, or a joke. 

Just because of who you are, which is made up of both natural disposition and neurosis. 

Sunday, 24 July 2016


little black dots connect
to create a tortuous movement
inside of my body

- This is me spiraling into emotional pain only to climb out and to be pushed back in again. It not good that it isn't Ramadan anymore.
In Ramadan, we Muslims believe that all devils are locked up, therefore automatically decreasing that amount of evil during the blessed month.
A miracle, because straight after Ramadan I found myself falling in good deeds and mood.

no hope in dunya
trapped inside my own body.
i wish to be liberated by paradise
But afflictions - do they bring me closer or near?
No longer enslaved by the dunya
but tormented by it.

nowhere woman
with her gaze forth to nowhere
and nothing, in particular
she casts her eyes to the foggy distance of the white walls
she has romantic ideas
about her thought process
dead or alive?
The public laugh from the galleys.