Hanna Abi Akl

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absence

sometimes strikes like a bat slicing through the dark with its wings cunning and weightless cutting through like a blade tearing the flesh apart exposing the bones this terrible void staring from the closet lying there, between the clothes slowly sucking at everything like a vacuum whispers that a voice a mere voice could restore order and you reach for the sparrow and the butterfly knowing they will...
crazy days. little drops of nostalgia drooping through the faucets of my brain. i remember growing up in a good home. how they kept jamming into me the philosophy of the working man (out of love and concern for my well-being, my mother used to say). now i am a workingman and there's hardly any work out there for me. i...