I'm packing my bags and moving to the Jabal. I will make films of absurd meaningless visions that I project on the barks of neglected trees for me and the animals to see. Each morning I will rise with my daily primordial scream of pain mixed ecstasy as the bites of large insects blood-let my putrid whitened body and I will be darkened by the revolving suns and by dried blood and will be smirking happy expressions to pass the day till the night lets me project again those ominous yet trivial cells that inlet curious or accidental passer being into the dreary soul of a trite and out of focus man.
I'm packing my bags and moving to the Nahur. I will sculpt monstrous reflections of demonized memories to let stand as dams for the neighboring constructionist mammals. Each night I will give to slumber by the warmth of the drying clay that plasters its weight upon me and sooth my doubt with membrance of the cuddled days I spent on the moon and will pass this night by the water's conversing rise and fall adding rhythm to my dreams until the morning crashes of dying trees unearthing clay to sculpt into the shapes of idols lost by a trite and shapeless man.
I'm packing my bags and moving to the Wadi... I will sketch sarcastic shadows that darken the passing clouds casting memories on my captive hills to use as barriers. Each new moon I will sacrifice another dream as a child of my past regretfully wanders the tomb of hope carved from the mountain by enslaved lost hands that I stare with apathy as the last drop takes with it the last breath and there is no turning back for a trite and putrid man.
