Mahmoud Darwish, Tr. By Fady Joudah, From The Butterfly’s Burden; “Take My Horse And Slaughter It”

Drink your coffee. Listen quietly to my words. Perhaps, We will not drink coffee together again. Perhaps I will not have the chance to speak again. — Nizar Tawfiq Qabbani

A gentle person is always beautiful.

You're the sun, you've never seen the night But you hear its song from the morning birds Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds- Mitski ‘’Your Best American Girl’‘

Night sky

DAYDREAM

‘’They say a soul with a vivid imagination can live in their own world…I just never thought id get so lost in mine.’’ - Joud Aburashed

“Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through.” - 'The Wind Rises'.  

no shape, no form.

I stare at the vanity 

Yet, My eyes aren't looking 

All that is there for me to see is a figure

It blurs and blurs I still cannot figure 

No shape, no form 

I must reform 

How? It’s said souls flow into creeks 

Taking the shape they please

But I cannot fit into a mold 

I have no definition 

Nothing worthy of attention 

Maybe this is how it’s meant to be

 floating around with no destiny 

I'll do that for eternity 

I'll latch into what I find in front of me

Till one day it tells me it needs me

I don't know who I am 

But maybe that's fate

For I aspire to elate within everything 

Nothing in this world and its luxuries 

Can limit me 

I simply am free. 

a rainbow of van gogh—

in order: Peach Tree in Bloom (in memory of Mauve), 1888 / Red Poppies and Daisies, 1890 / Willows at Sunset, 1888 / The Sower (Sower with Setting Sun), 1888 / Undergrowth with Two Figures, 1890 / Landscape with Couple Walking and Crescent Moon, 1890 / Branches with Almond Blossom, 1890 / Starry Night Over the Rhone, 1888 / Irises, 1889 / Wheat Field With Cypresses, 1889

(Idealism is a disease) by joud abu rashed

Idealism is a disease

Once it enters your system it feeds off of your mistakes

It spreads like a wildfire making you quake

Symptom after symptom you start to hallucinate

A thought becomes a reality

There’s no real definition of actuality

All you can do is live in brutality

And endure that cruelty

There’s no one to blame but that little voice in your head

Making you wish on sweet death

Whispering to you as if it was your own closest friend

The doctors say there’s a cure

One that’s pure

But there’s a price

First you have to apologize

To the body you forced to idealize 

A vulnerable state of you past mistakes

Drowning you in a lake

The water reflects an image of grief and regret  

As it overwhelms you slowly you start to forget

A cold breeze of acceptance washes all over you

A warm feeling is new

A smile takes over you

Now you are cured.

this poem speaks about my struggles with anxiety and perfectionism. I hope you find a sense of comfort in it 

welcome to the life of a writer 

Never related to anything more 🥲😮‍💨

And when you told me what your favorite book was, I bought it and read it over and over trying to find pieces of you in it.

- unknown