my palestine
this whore of a life
the dearest thing to your heart taken away forever. for reasons you'll never be able to grasp no matter how hard you try.
others seem to though. it makes sense to them. the logic of what's at stake. your uprising is getting you nowhere and it's only doing harm to you and everyone around you . you are needed somewhere else and this is what is expected from you because you are good strong responsible human beings.
you try to resist. over and over. till you're crushed. till there are no more weapons and no more hopes and no more will.
the thought of someone else breathing your air and sleeping in your bed and growing the tulips in your garden.
the realization that if this were to be a different reality none of this would have happened in the first place. that if this were a different time and a different place things would be so simple and justice would be a given and not an impossible quest. you still dont understand. you're like the women in Inland Empire.
you try to move on.
different faces different places. you genuinely try to forget because the whore left you no choice. and the harder you try the clearer it becomes that you're not only desperately trying to kid yourself, but you're pathetically lousy at it. every olive you eat is an olive branch. every scarf you wear. every glass of wine. every song every leaf every body every sunset every drop of rain.
and at night you dream of eternal sunshine. to be hit by a train and to wake up to nothingness. nothingness is the best you can wish for.
you tie yourself up and you slap your face over and over until you're blinded by your own tears. and when you cant take the torture anymore you turn around and glance at the place that's being offered to you instead. with its fake garden and fancy car and 'bright future'. you look back.
your home. under your skin. perpetual scars that won't heal.
you'll always be my home no matter where i sleep
the dearest thing to your heart taken away forever. for reasons you'll never be able to grasp no matter how hard you try.
others seem to though. it makes sense to them. the logic of what's at stake. your uprising is getting you nowhere and it's only doing harm to you and everyone around you . you are needed somewhere else and this is what is expected from you because you are good strong responsible human beings.
you try to resist. over and over. till you're crushed. till there are no more weapons and no more hopes and no more will.
the thought of someone else breathing your air and sleeping in your bed and growing the tulips in your garden.
the realization that if this were to be a different reality none of this would have happened in the first place. that if this were a different time and a different place things would be so simple and justice would be a given and not an impossible quest. you still dont understand. you're like the women in Inland Empire.
you try to move on.
different faces different places. you genuinely try to forget because the whore left you no choice. and the harder you try the clearer it becomes that you're not only desperately trying to kid yourself, but you're pathetically lousy at it. every olive you eat is an olive branch. every scarf you wear. every glass of wine. every song every leaf every body every sunset every drop of rain.
and at night you dream of eternal sunshine. to be hit by a train and to wake up to nothingness. nothingness is the best you can wish for.
you tie yourself up and you slap your face over and over until you're blinded by your own tears. and when you cant take the torture anymore you turn around and glance at the place that's being offered to you instead. with its fake garden and fancy car and 'bright future'. you look back.
your home. under your skin. perpetual scars that won't heal.
you'll always be my home no matter where i sleep
posted by Laila K at
16:14
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