Is it possible?


Is it possible?

To grieve for your own soul? To watch it, burn, disintegrate day in and day out.

For screams to unravel themselves only to be confined in the vortex of your heart.

To feel pain only your flesh can taste? Is it love?

To feel pleasure and joy in  a blaze that rises from a coffin engraved with your name?

Ali R Ilyas.



English: Nō mask


He held a mask to his face.
Acting ‘normal’ so it would fit, to leave to space.

No gaps to let himself seep through.

Frowns drowned in stapled smiles.

He searched to find himself, but his reflection showed only the mask he held.

You can’t hope to find yourself, from eyes that build someone else.

By Ali Ilyas.