This is what you do to me
Sitting here talking to myself
It’s almost dawn and I can’t sleep
Just as I start to think I’m getting better
The universe finds a way to remind me of you
And it starts all over again
The war of should, could and might.
It all ends the same way, the only victor is can’t.
Can’t change anything now.
Can’t stop thinking about it.
Can’t
So I sit here and talk to myself.
Yep
This is what you do to me.
Sitting here distracting myself.
With every game, movie, or show I can get my hands on
As I subject myself to every substance so I can succumb to the soothing serenade of solitude and sink in sweet, sweet sleep.
But I hate dreaming, all it does is remind me of what could, should or might have been.
It all ends with waking up to the world of never.
It was never going to happen. 
I never had a chance.
Never.
So I wake up and distract myself.
Fuck
This is what you fucking do to me
Sitting here talking to myself, surrounded by distractions, as I try to drown every memory of you 
Hating every moment I’m awake but too scared to go to sleep.
Even though those dreams and memories are all I have left. 
Like a lifeline made out of barbed wire, hanging on between rage and sorrow.
This is what you do to me.
And don’t you dare walk back into my life
Because I would let you in
I would let you in without a moment’s doubt or hesitation.
Pretend like this isn’t doomed to happen again and again.
This is what you do to me.
This is what I did to myself.

This Is What You Do To Me

Sea Of Fiction

I swam into a sea of fiction.
I asked myself how bad could it be?
But I found out that I had an addiction.
So I dove deeper and let it consume me. 
I found a fantastic fantasy filled 
With warriors, wizards and wonders I couldn’t wait to see.
Caped crusaders catching criminals and cracking crimes.
Words weave and warp into rhythmically rendered rhymes
Musical metamorphosis materializing masterpieces.
A perfect world capturing everything I wanted to be.

But the deeper I went the more I lost myself, forgetting the world above.
I had to come up for air and go back to reality.
Struggling against the tide, swimming faster, fighting the fantasy.
Lungs burning, muscles screaming.
Dear destiny don’t doom me to drown in sea.
I see the light, as my vision begins to blur.
So close
Getting closer
Almost there
Air.

Stale air fills my lungs with poisons.
Grey clouds darken the skies. 
A monochrome mess of melancholy 
Living from desk to desk to desk
Cramped cubicles killing creativity causing conditions. 
The world above became meaningless. 
Fiction broke reality for me.
So I took a deep breath
And went under again.

Sea Of Fiction

Casket Case.
Yeah, I’m a casket case. 

What does that mean?

Hell, I don’t even know. 

But I like the way it sounds though.

You see I like half assed metaphors and alliteration.

So I try to stuff them in all of my creations. 

I’m creative enough to string a series of similar sounding syllables that sometime seem senseless. 

But not enough to come up with anything truly deep or endless.



I’m shallow it’s true. 

But my currents are strong enough to move you.

Like that line? I’m proud of it too. 

It’s rare that I write something I don’t fucking hate.

But I guess as a writer that’s my fucking fate

Even worse, I’m a poet.

It’s a shitty occupation and everyone knows it.

But I gotta do something with all these words in my mind.

So I can sleep or at least unwind.

What, you don’t think I know how pretentious I sound?

I wrote this shit and I’m not too proud.



Actually I am. At least a little bit.

Even though I know I’m full of shit.

It’s the only time I get to sound smart.

The only time I’m being honest and speak from my heart.



Yeah, it’s kinda hopeless.

And writing about it, it’s kinda pointless

I hope you like brutal honesty and self deprecation.

Give myself a break? I owe me a vacation. 

But I can’t afford to do it.

Remember? I’m just a half assed poet. 

Ghazi Alshehabi