a bench in beirut.

Beirut downtown, 12:53 pm, influences: caffeine, hunger, nostalgia.
  • It’s quiet and loud at the same time.
  • No one ever talks about how pink Beirut is.
  • The Athan sounds like the blood scene from The Shinning: It flows in all alleys. Echos, beautifully.
  • Can lights have sounds too?
  • I wonder what stories were told on this bench. It seems filthy but I don’t think it’s because of the stories.
  • I heard some music, somewhere. There should be music, always.
  • Is it still poetry when you take the souls from out your brain and smack them on a piece of yellow, plain paper?
  • The buildings are warm, but I am outside. I like to feel cold and have my blood push against my skin to make tiny spotted screams all over my forearms and knees.
  • I guess this is how I know there’s still chaos left in me?
    I don’t know.