Khartoum heartbreak _ the real 2

i feel distant
i feel different
is this the same me?

I suddenly realise this is the first time im in the sky feeling so deeply in love
never have i travelled so.... heavy with emotion it may just bring the plane down
I close my eyes and hear the turbine roll and pur into vastness
there is nothing out there for miles
except stars

thousands of stars
near me
and I am far
from the only star
that i want to be near

fresh lavender
headphones
i shuffle until i find new music
beautiful music

everything falls into space
as i listen to two songs in particular
everything falls in to space
i was meant to be here to listen to these
and there is now wy i would have found them

i close my eyes
and dream of white lace and long trails
of flowers in my hair
and a pink smile
just the way he likes
i dream of golden lights and jasmine flowers
i dream of my beating heart
and perfect fingers holding each other
I dream of me
looking...... like in a dream

Khartoum Heartbreak - the real 1

The heat of the last wind of khartoum surrounds me- I hear  familiar lazy voices say stupid things and  loud ambulance sirens go nowhere  in a tired city wanting to go to sleep but never can - its nearly 2 in the morning and as i stand in front of the final outside gates - of this crazy city - as i have to let it go - It decides to take from me very expensively  - all the things that i have - it takes - all the things i own - it holds , , love, family, beautiful stories, memories, hope, faith - and i cannot take them with me

everything makes sense here -everything is beautiful here -i was made here - and i want to make others here - this is my home, this is my life - so why should i go? - my goodbyes are very very very expensive this time and i feel so poor as i have to pay it all , my memories, my dreams, my past, my touch and my kiss and suddenly i begin to taste europe still in his triangle-- as he said - he was right - youre in europe the minute you are on the plane-  -i remember his words -i remember his voice -i remember everything but i dont see anything  and i certainly cant feel anything- except - i see white and blue -i hear foreign languages -I sense time is precious and I have to move rigid -I have to move in line -i have to forget for a little while -and become the old hope - one that i dont like anymore - different - alien - a stranger to this reality


I
take
slow
steps

my body doesnt want this
my mind doesnt want this
my eyes dont want this
my life doesnt want this
even my bags dont want this as they fight me and i try hard to make them and me travel
tonight



everything is slow and paused
maybe i could turn back
just run back
and become the wife of the man i want to marry
tonight
no other time
but tonight
now
be there
instead of being here
alone

I take a deep breath and take my first step on the plane for i have no choice but to not stay

 i have no choice
but to not stay

to be continued..............

 

Khartoum Heartbreak_ tears fall for days lost in time

Today I am sad and frightened
I  have failed terribly not even easily and I have so much work to do
Not in just passing but in dreaming

my dreams have tarnished
my dreams have become finite
I can see their end near

Sometimes I wish I could just leave and turn home
I miss home
I always write about the sounds, the visions , the balconies and the scents
I always remember the history the past
when there was no judgement
just clean verandas and sunset kitchens glistening with sparkle

If I close my eyes I can remember a long time ago
a clean veranda where cotton sheets mesmerised in the working air conditioning and mixture of fresh bakhoor . The flowers painted lightly employed the sunset and flashed their desire to impress. pillows plumped outwards and chairs sat perfectly for dinner. the scents of lux soap devoured the space as white skin was moisturised and long black but hair was swept into a gently ponytail
the middle bed was the first story , light television over a sweet evening tea visitors allowed and sowing talked over perfect hems

IF I close my eyes I can unfold the time back to when wardrobes were filled with treasures. It was a young kids dream, my dream to beg for them to be opened she used to laugh and open them with hands free show me the vast array of collected items I couldnt wait to grow up so they could be mine
fabrics from far and wide sat like decorated armor
I wore this when I and I wore that when and /..... this one is for you when you get married
I chuckled and tried to imagine a still foetus dream
perfumes lounged in discussion as I was allowed to spray 

chanel number 5...... the master of perfume .... no other bottle could compete with her love of number 5 it sat like the captain in the centre of the other scared bottles on the second shelf of the first  wardrobe........ thats anough spraying! dont waste my perfume!
i was gushed out of the room smelling like a bucket of cologne -

If I close my eyes I remember how the plants had to be watered at the right times.... just before Asr - and when the yard was washed. I remember how the yard was washed and she stood at the corner of the veranda door


Inspecting......
move that conspicous pot and clean behind it !
 Andthen days when ehr history was taken to london
the london I want to return to not this london when red buses where open at the back and you could make it ot break a leg.....we always made it
 Strawberry cheesecake in woolsworth
clothes shopping in C&M

I sitll remember she loved those shops
I still remember she treated me to the end of a hard day shopping to strawberry cheesecake in woolsworth
but when I close my eyes I cannot remember it all! UUUGGGH
its fuzzy its broken and its lost, like images from an erased tape due to old age
I try and force my eyes shut and repair the image but I do not have all the memory in store no longer

I wish I did I wish i did
have the image of her and I in woolsworths eating strawberry cheesecake in oxford street
what did we talk about
I will enver know
what was she thinking I will  never know

I have all the feelings and emotion devotion
I can sense her and I know what I am missing without her
but its too late
 i miss her dedication to perfeect cooking, perfect cleanliness perfect accuracy
freezers set to the right degree and jelly must not be too soft or too hard
it was t he knowledge of a genius
it was the era of beautiful days


I miss it all
I missi it all
I  miss her
I miss her




My grandmother 
she is the days I want to recreate
she is the product i want to become
she isthe fairytale that should be acted
she is the wonder that should  be facted


she is the happinness that I want to repeat
Her abscence is a misery i cannot defeat
she is the key to a history untold
beautiful images in my mind frozen and cold
I want to take them and melt them in the heat
and return to the day when the back yards flourished with cotton sheets and we sat there so happy so
ignorant to the fact these were the most cherished days in my youth
I cannot weight those days with anything
I cannot pay for my future without the income of those days

those days when life was still traditional yet modern
when was life was still blended with ease and pattern of beauty
when my grandmother was still the pearl of the house
 and the story of love
the story of kindness but the difference in detail
in respect in standards and knowledge
made her a woman no one can ever find today

mary......
I wonder where your helper went , what happened to her is she alive or dead
the last reminensce of a Sudan now gone you and her , you and me,me and her me and a history I close my eyes and wish to return to
A sudan, a day, a story ,a moment in life we will never ever ever see again

Live Khartoum heartbreak 2

DON'T eat that!



I remember the night i sat on an african balcony dreaming that I Could reach the stars

wishing upon a miracle to bring them down for me as there was no way i could reach high to get them

there was no wayI could reach high to get them

 the heat of the tiles accumulated a sadness within me as if I was soaking up the african ground from a distance

where the people where hungry and thirsty but I was full I was so full 

and yet 

the distance between me and the stars was ever so grand

ever so far

it made me hungry

so hungry

that all I felt was pain

like the pain I feel now

hungry and yet never full

full and yet always hungry

................

LIVE Khartoum Heartbreak 1

Just so close, on a fallen balcony , a woman screams to her young daughter - YOUVE DONE A HUUGEEE MISTAKE! FIX IT!
her screams echo the lounge, the kitchen, solid annoyance with the world and everything in it ,in that moment in time , I am forced to listen planets between us and yet her voice rings in my ears, her pain agonises my heart and her screams worrry me terribly,

it is an episode of live Khartoum Heartbreak

here We are, here I am amidst the working streets, it is 2.36 in the afternoon
birds are chirping outside , their sounds sing over fast motor cycles and impatient car horn, lorries growl too.  I can hear the sounds of cooking, pots and pans exploding with flavour in deep unshaven kitchens, clean....but not clean enough, never can be - for it would not be perfect Khartoum otherwise .... dust trickles, and flies dance ,

my cousin breaks my trail of thought but enters a new one in my head...... her lemon juice swings in the air , taste and smell combined remind me of my glistening dreams, and hot houses repaired with  them.. I dream of living here in the heat sometimes won by the creeping cold escpecially in the night time twirls - when it gets cold here - no one should underestimate the powr of its control. Slowly taking you sharply drying you from the winds agitated by change in the skies. its swift coolness design my dreams. I dream now of a 6.02 am balcony revolution with a woolen jumper over a navy cotton dress. hair hairdressed, curls obeying and attentive to beauty, hena glowing each flower flowing stories, each line connecting dots.... she smells african, she smells sudanese.. but her scent is from an alternate reality , just a few moments away and yet planets in time.......

Khartoum heartbreak pre 3

I lost the game a while back in Khartoum
I broke the law of love a while back in Khartoum
I lost the role of courage a while back in Khartoum
I discovered the evil side of me a while back in Khartoum

Tell me......
Dear Khartoum
could you ever forgive me?
I a stranger, thinking I could get closer...to your touch

Tell me
Would you accept me/
or would you send the enemies for me
would you send talk and spatter and wrong eyes
would you let the heat attack and the dirt combat
all my tries
would you insult me
like i insulted you

or would you forgive me and change me
and offer me



a freetime balcony osmehwere in your middle streets bending on your alley ways
one of the cold days of winter
would you lend me the night as it crawls overmy temper and makes me a better woman
would you let it sink in the stars beating the sky navy the moon travelling distance into my heart the street lights colouring my portrait of tonight
the traffic is still expet for random hearts like me
my job is to remember this poem it would be


could you ever give me one of your land space to dream?
or for my dreams to come real?
Dear Khartoum
I have always fought foryou here
it might not be much and I know it is not what you need
....
but dear Khartoum
I wish you would offer me

a piece of your nature
a part of your success
a piece of your insulation
and a part of my mind
please
give me a part of my mind back

I applaude you for your living strength
I aplaude you for wisdom even though you are far away from the boundaires of regulations

this is why I love you
lack of regulation
lac of speculation

that I could ever be......unhappy

but
only if you open the blacony I o desire
only if you could open the balcony into my heart
and close the balcony of my creeping nightmares

please God
I beg you to help me and saveme from who i have become

Khartoum Heartbreak pre 2

In the morning I kiss you good night


for its just the end of the beginning

summertime love, winter explicitlessness, african jungle of bitter sweet emancipation

I guess i met you for a reason only time will tell

I know forever and ever I'm under youre spell....even though I am wide awake

are you a simple perfection ? with an honest complexion
sweet tasting seduction on a a background of delicance
I beg for your eyes - A Khartoum vision of beautiful suprise
the bridges connect us
the cars talk about us
the houses reminisce our holding hands
the children laugh with us
the taxis yellow our hearts
the markets open us
and the nile...the nile waters us
for its in its black silver water of romantic predispostion I get the cure to love you


you're doing something to me
in the morning evening
the night is still young
but the lights are coming through
the twilight is still speaking
the midnight s listening
the day is calling
but the night is never postponing


my intentions are clear

what are yours>?

Khartoum heartbreak pre 1

(the pre collection) -

Last time I caused the city to bleed
it cried as I came to visit and never asked it how it was
it sobbed as I passed through it unaware at its beauty
it had done so much to greet me
applaude me
love me
make me me
and yet
last time
I shed no affection for the morning dusk
or the afternoon anger of heat
or the mid evening licence to silence
or the sunset glow
or the evening kisses of the moon
or the dark night that catches the stars

last time I hurt the feelings of the streets, the rocks the houses
I was arrogant and disobedient
a foreigner coming to intrude the meaning of stillness trueness
the walls had to collide with my crash
and the gardens had to distend with my poisons

last time I turned my back to the sillhouette of the midnight trees
and the sounds of the morning birds
and the whispers of the beautiful elderly respected
and the everlasting love that cannot be contained or explained
in khartoum


Khartoum heartbreak - pre
as I walked out into the tarmac to catch my flight away from home
the whole capital cried
for it had lost a part of its persons and I had lost a part of my natural instinct to take care of myself
and my country
it was just lucky that the sound of the plane was so loud no one could hear my screams
no one could hear my rubbles of dreams crumbling
as I got on the plane I couldnt look back for I knew
I had hurt my only lover in this world
I had broken up with the place I was born
I had terribly destroyed the relationship between myself and ......  Khartoum
and it hated me
for coming to it and doing this to it in its own place
it hated me because I was sudanese and it loved me for who I was - but never what i had become

Khartoum Heartbreak.....re the pain

I ....Dreamt of a day where we could be happy, where I could be happy
I dreamt of a day where we would sit on balconies in the sunset and drink mint tea...or cardamon...the only difference is the flavour of essence...but the steam of freshly brewed tea in the evening is the same the smiles are the same the melody of fmaily i the same the commitment and love is ....the same

I.... Dreamt of a day where we treasure home and hold ourselves in high regard,,,where people hold us in high regard where we dont need anything but each other

I....Dreamt of a day where i could trust myself trust my family and of course trust in god

I... Dreamt of a day where I dont feel guilt as I hvae done nothing wrong
simple....
I dreat of a day where my patience runs  through and I see the pleasure of waiting

I dreamt of a day where its a simple khartoum evening the streets hustle queitly as yet another evening falls ...the tea is still hot..... the wind blows and sings perfection.... no chill no heat just ....heartbreak

Khartoum heartbreak the biscuits are from the local grocery.... green doors.... pepsi on the outside pavement yet the biscuits are purely sdanese sitting on my balcony next to my tea as I stare out on the horizon of a heartbroken city
heartbroken by me heartbroken by broken dreams by broken people


I ....Dreamt of a day where I lived in that heartbroen place but with a new heart ready to fix ready to treasure
I dreamt it would be mine
the vast landscape of tommorrow
tommorows treasure in the african desert so faaar away
I dreamt I could conquer my present and sail the seaas to get there
I dreamt it would be mine

I dreamt it would be mine
........hot mint....or cardomon tea as the sun falls in yet another heartbroken khartoum....yet I am with a freshly brewed heart glowing with faith,country love and magic
i dreamt it would be mine......

Khartoum heartbreak, disaster outbreaks

This is a disaster

I mean,

I sit here and dream of finding the nile grow day by day like a newborn invested in my heart - healing heart amongst the bridges of carressing night african stars and traffic hustle of deepness , the dampness of the ravishing waters comes to my desires, swiftly taking my breath away - for I dream that I find coffee dawns in ozone paradise and true affairs in the middle of tribal connections - amidst the wafers of bliss I am sandwiched into happinness and madness for love of a country and twined hotels, lavishing the sky - - their windows act like a balcony into where I am so far away - yet I close my eyes- i close my eyes and i am standing over khartoums song - over khartoums heartbeat - over khartoums love for me- for if i was to have an affair - i would be with sudan- it would be the secrets of the streets and the people and the poor thriving rich into my emotions - somehwere I get lost in urban shops and boutiques unknown and people black with soot of a tired day - in there I find a home - filled with trees and a family and faith that time is created for my adeventure and venture into the forest of lust for an evening sleepover - -for if i was to know - i would know that my country would never leave me - i have been betraying -yes - so betraying it hurts so bad like hell- I feel like i ripped out my own mind and left it bleeding in the heat of a terresterial storm of love - serials of cermonies come agonising to find me for i have lost the beauty outside and inside - everything shows so well so clear - like the dampness in the nile in my dream- I just want to touch it - thats all

Khartoum Heartbreak 10_ find that day and bring it to me

The breeze asks for my forgiveness to forgive myself as my mind travels across grass of quiet beauty - I ask for flowers pink in gold vases and seatings under the silver moon - trauma of love defines identity as people hum life and memory by tiles woven with history - I walk magic of elephant trees and peackock visiting - it comes so close - pecking at my love for sudan- wondering - why am i here? who am I? the king of beauty in down town suburban sweets collection - I am offered a tribute of entering but right now I do not get involved - for I am not involved in the frightening cells of afternoon sleeping visits- tranquility shocked by open eyes - and closed fragility the sun wakes invisibly to hide the dawn of the dead - something in me broke or burnt by the sirens of fear - run away by wasting time - watching the haven door open and close into the drizzling streets of despair - department khartoum - sick of living the corner and watching the turns pass me- stuck in today - and worse - yesterday- tryin to remember when i was strong - ridiculous entity - I am not .... like this... I cannot be like this...spitting the run down balconies of africa - I look out to the neighbours - the generators - the wasps of flies emailing my attention - come find me .... please come find me -from deep inside me - come back - I am sorry I let go - I am so sorry I let go - but the traffic was heavy and the weight was heavy - it was a cold night or a hot day - I cannot remember the extremities of the details but the result is today - now - I sit here -waiting for the passion inside me to wake up - to fight - to resume battle and win -

Khartoum Heartbreak 9_They didn't come

the miracle workers didnt come
they hid behind distance and unsaid ideas believing in my arrogance
they felt sorry for me, not happy for me
they talked - in the concavities of the night and between seconds of the day how they knew they were not coming - whispering how tired they were
weighing out options of dissapointing me
THAT was not tiring
Doors opened for them, i opened them
eyes respected them, I respected them
my life wanted to be like them - I wanted to be like them
my heart beat for them - I want them to be happy always - always
They remind me of old traditional love and respect,belief and miraculous strength
so I waited for them to come t hrough the door and make me ....worthwhile
but....
they were on the other side of town intervening at the fibres of my care - for they wanted to be untied
digging potholes of years of hard work all collected in these few hours - I wanted to c them
I got so angry - what is wrong? with me, the world
because there is nothing wrong with them
miracle workers chose not to be mine
thinking of me as labours relative - nothing more , maybe less
miracle workers didnt come because its easy for them to forget me, they have forgotten me,
only ridicule me

I will always remember them
I will always stride to be like them
always love them

but I have to find a new paradigm of thinnking


In this african wave of anger and rush to eat, and to be the first
to ruin something so easily by lack of respect and a bit of care
I find that the breath of the streets is not free, I have to force air through
the people do not smile at me so free, I have to indulge in their dehydrated connection
the houses do not welcome me out of goodness and natures blood, but out of simple ruules

I wonder if i live forever here amongst the most beautiful of country, life and independance will i be .....a miracle worker...for disaster?
or will i be true and real and happy, calm and relieved that I have found home,

I am hungry for love, hungry for time spent here
hungry for passion and african breakfasts sitting on balconies and waiting for the electricity to come
I am hungry for sweets and dessert so I can taste some sugared company, some sweetened flavour that I yearn
I am hungry for a life I want and need and eat for continouly
I am hungry for living out what miracle workers showed me for it is over - moments with them are over -

but fans hydrating the love for my country, sudan and the air that I desire, still work

Khartoum Heartbreak 8_ Balcony of creation

Balconies intertwine with streets and memories pass over the stars enclosing the winds agony to blow distance and time

Good things never last, beautiful things finish too fast

I am filled with Gods wishes for me

I am filled with Romantic prosperity

like swinging infrastructure on an african sunrise - floating desert words of soundless images - I fall in dreams-

whispers they seem, - i cannot hear the fate of calling armor - echoes of passion fly by the walks of hay huts of stirred hearts - let me imagine your concubine disaster sweeping me with the storms of mudded flooded wishes -I wish for you - to forgive me

I wish for you - to desire me

rain monsooned with emotion, drive with commotion of third world places in my soul -

come find me amongst streets deserted with kisses

hold me under cries and tears of todays sunset - from a magical sun

under a sweet tree of khartoum aspiration and creation

I ..c.reate u

Khartoum Heartbreak 7_it's just a glass of water

On the balcony of a busy subsaharan sleeping neighbourhood, the hum of the air conditioning moistens the intensity of position -of condition to wake up and live again within an unknown time - wind fans the moisture, the texture of a ...dress enlightens romance, begins a story. Light is night and what is impossible is most likely improbable - but here, right now, it is real - an ..alternate reality of crisp flaky windows open into the bewildered exterior, the doors tap tap tap queit solitude intervening with armors of protecting ...a floating dress.

Silently cushions lie, LED lamps blink feverishly a passion of despair, tables gently flatten peace, carpets curl beneath any ignorance - the washing sound of blissful africa - in my heart

Thirsty for the glass that quenches sanity of vastness

It is 2,42 AM - my feet twinkle in the shadows, dancing to reach through the familiar darkness, where within the realms of clean tops and unemployed crops - lies the opening of a mysterious cabinet, for it is now that it only lets its true beauty soar, its fantastic coolness and power of golden chill - I raise my hand to the mumbling strings of our refrigator, my dress - swinging to the last of the taken spring --- of immersed jug water - memorable to dream with as it trickles lust and cool desire -I am here for you... take me - the water hushes lashes of staring in compartments of wilderness - for tastes of africa lie only within my touch - the scent of ice - the waft of home made yoghurt - its particles crystalising with white -- predicament - Mint... smashes feelings into reason - Mango - the delights of mango - ushering watefalls of sweet temptation - the kitchen enhances with destiny - and I am a part of that collection of sudanese affair

The Stolen Garden_ Khartoum Heartbreak 6

People build a lot of rooms, nowadays a lot of money goes into accomadation that lasts for families, and relatives. People want something that is easy, affordable, economic and in the city so as to to live a life .... where they built a house that works


For me.... I love Khartoum not only because it is my home town, but because there is magic to its components... or Life I have yet to understand...


With my grandmother out in the house yard, enveloped by open air and her stories of princes and princessess, I counted the stars, lost count at 1353 and had to start all over again because I followed a glittering plane until it dissappeared into the fading darkness out of the scope of my tired eyes to follow.... and her sweet voice entangled me into a beautiful escapade until morning. I remember the wind that blew those memories into me still today

Romance under a Khartoum navy sky full of complicated stories, full of tales and glories of a million untold secrets and fairytales in the dusken reality of broken city lights that extends all the way through african streets and people with closed doors and empty gardens .... making up a forgottten yard in in the delve of my heartbreak.


__________________________________________________________________

He looks at me from beyond the stars, twinkling twilight of our garden, its perimeter the locket of escapades into each others hearts, romance of dew particles flowering the midnight sun. In the silence of neon lights.... in the distance... Flies fly in a world of existence I only hear... maybe like New York...maybe like here... in this area surrendering to short ropes of lacking water and flickering astonishment of his imagination through me. The lightened dark holds my eyes in questions I yearn him to ask me... I beg that he hears me... for I am scared.... Carrying a teapot and respect but I drink a lot of steaming painful seconds that go by.... All I want for him is to tell me................................


The Moon collects shatterings of me and reflects the shine of a waiting hour into morning... it may be 3 AM, 4 AM...but it is the middle of so many tonights where I fight to stay strong


Jasmines.... I love Jasmines... Smelling of Jasmines Pearls that died of good fate, her face remains broken with time, broken by circumstance, I know this is just borrowed luck of beauty, Yes, .............

Khartoum Plants, Insects and fantasised life should grow in my garden...and he waits for me, while I bring him some romantic mint tea

Khartoum Heartbreak 5

THE LETTER ABOUT THAT SUMMER

Thanks dear! lol I thought about that and he is definitely not hurting me in terms of me loving him -but I suppose in a weird way it hurts to think how I thought of him when we first met - I mean I REALLY liked him - loved him - and I dont know will u understand cuz u hate sudanese guys!! but I thought he was perfect - like we would get married and he would know all about my life and ways cuz he lived like me and vica versa and I dreamt and dreamt that it wud be perfect - Now I know I sound like I'm not over him but I AM

I suppose I'm not over the dream- Of finding that perfect guy! In a way everytime I think of him I remember I lost the dream - and then I suppose I know it sounds weird again - but sometimes I feel in my heart that if he was different- in the way he thought and lived and who he was - then he would have been able to love me back - does that make sense? probably not - like I just feel that if he thought differently - if he had a different personality and dreams I feel I would have fitted in the picture - I know I'm trusting myself a bit much here - but u dont kno - that summer - it was --- Oh I dont know! what am I saying seriously though... I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM anymore - Don't be smirking at me when u read this!!! OR I WILL KILL U LOl!!!!

Khartoum Heartbreak 4

'She clicks her mp3 tune - Complicated by Robin Thicke'

I wish I could change - I wish I could change - I wish I could stop saying the same old things - I wish I could be - Who you want me to be - I wish I could stop being the same old me - I wish I could lose - All of my blues - I wish I could stop putting my blues on you - I wish I could love - Like nobody loves - I wish that my goods outweigh my bad......

'The song of her reality'

I wish I could stop dreaming of you
Skies bruised from my hurt
You are too out of my league
Like a champion I can never race with
Pain drawing my insides
With a colour that weakens my soul

Words that only tear me
Words that never spare me

'Cage the stars'

The sky glitters with tropical stars twinkling upon the hushing african city. Flavors of young mother's poverty outweigh in bitterness as they tremble on the vast mudded streets collecting darkness, struggles of defeated men driving their battered cabs from the dawn of the day, sorrows of closing stalls where sales were exctinct once again.

'The night has a million stories to tell, more than a million shadows to hide.'

Over the silently stricken River Nile of magical fairytales there is a dream of living, surviving and offering the hand to continue the journey to a purpose for tomorrows determined generations to find success in whatever they desire. The waters ripple with existence, emotion, devotion for its country and the waves over rided by prosperous traffic become the basis for this never giving up population.

'Yet she is locked '

Over my heart as I watch the eyes of the city watch into a new day, as I hear the Lungs of Khartoum breathe, as I take in its memories and feel it yearning to make new ones Tomorrow - There is a sheet of memories from deep within me

'Trying to break free.'

Khartoum Heartbreak 3

The cold within me sends me to temptation of finding heat in your soul. I magnify the warmth in my mind a million times while standing in the wilderness of a frozen ground in the middle of my inner arctic reality. I dream far away from the swarm of my ice petals of problems and think of no one but you, nothing but your glistening eyes of fake love and truth.
I can't concentrate with the schizophrenic emotions waking up in my mind. One time I want you more than ever, the next, I badly need to forget you. Your picture dissolves too fast for me to remember, but magnifies too large for me to ignore.
The shining around your eyes framing struggles and tries, the temples of tiredness on your face honoring the days that you place, your smile to the night as you stay strong in the plight - and the way you made my heart race watching your heart trace some connection of energy with your presence, your loss and your dreams trying to break free from the grip of the Khartoum city power cut.
The electricity failing as usual leaves the darkness plot its way in the angst scene cascading through you and me. No generator could give life to the gap between us; no battery could be strong enough to overcome our differences. In the created blackness, our sub-Saharan thirsty love disintegrates in the shadows, a manifestation of a lost reason, to ask you to fall in love with me.
Hungry silence devours the emptiness already existing between you and I. There is a truncated sweetness to the atmosphere, a mutated happy ending.
You look in the sky, your eyes scouring to discover a moment of identity; the vast equanimity drags you in the bliss of dreaming. You are relaxed by the calm of the African serenity, the stars ask you stay, you welcome their invitation, you feel at home, you feel found, and you feel like who I wanted.
I think about telling you that I’m tired from hiding the galaxy of desire I have for you, I think about making secrets real, I think about how it would feel if my words impacted softly on you. You would quit translating to the stars and translate to me, everything you want me to see.

Think of it like a wrong ending or a badly written chapter – it’s not how it was meant to be. That’s ridiculous - Everything is going perfect in the midst of all this imperfection, why should I write a terrible ending. Why should I write a terrible ending

Khartoum Heartbreak 2

The sun shines frantically to hide the darkness of my sorrow- it melts my depression of not having you into the realms of an African tragedy – I listen to the melancholy drip drop of sweated tears – crying from my inner breakage – my third world average – I would never be able to pay of the debt of attraction – too poor for your eyes to ever expensive -ise me – desertification of passion flows through my veins – I pray to the skies miracles wishing it would rain – rain your soul that would irrigate my dreams from excessive temperatures of heartache – You are - tempers soft against the gale of the harsh madness – I whisper to my torn apart land, that it would be alright, if I just forgot about you – if I starved all my desire beneath rib cages only strong enough to pretend – maybe I could lend - malnourished thoughts of you to my mind – then I wouldn’t find – a storage of the twilight extravagance of your eyes to explore my secretive feelings – when you look at me – so close yet so tropically far – I could never become more intimidated by romance and torment at the same time – star lights night engaging my protest to hold you near and tell you my fears – the darkness pours its reasoning suddenly, randomly - I am twisted in a (fairymare, nighttale) of what I could never be to you – every meaning that it spells – no matter how the caged balconies free my temptations – I could never make you understand what you mean to me – so I silence my Khartoum heartbreak as it could never be – that you and I are on the same equator of love

Khartoum heartbreak 1

Under a tropical glittered sky lay Khartoum's urban exotic rhythm where Africa’s secretive magic rushed past tribal black down way streets and dark alleyways forgotten by electricity yet bursting with tranquility, culture that slept so alive from the taste of moisture of love - Until I remember it tried to sprinkle the fantasy over our back garden and it suddenly collided into 2 souls that terminated the continuation of the 'Sudanese dream' - You - I - everlasting love falling in between.
The Sun began to lift its face over the country so as to shine the existence of a newly beginning day - Rays stretched far and wide through schoolbags of young children skipping to classrooms and cheap transport of tricycled motors boycotting hot desert traffic against the background of swiveling young youth perspiring to work trying to overcome the nomadic modernity. As those rays strengthened their will to give soul to the land its light pouring through our open morning driveway the light was trapped by the boundaries of 2 hearts who only reflected darkness and shined blackness to each other's world.