My parents, the providers, would say to me; “We found you in the trash,” followed by mockery and mimicry in a strong French accent. “Our blood is running through your veins,” and they would stink in vain. “You grew up in my belly,” and they would look at each other bursting in laughter. “You are not my child,” words would be spat in my face, two inches away from my eyes. “You are not my child. I am not your mother. Go see your mother,” words would again be spat in my face, two inches away from my eyes. “You’re mixed up,” were repeated twice in laughter when I would share flashbacks of my birth in my mother’s arms with my father near standing still in the corner. My parents, the providers, would never provide an explanation of which my brain, some time on its own, tried to rewire; “Remember when you said that I am not your child. Why, why did you say that to me for,” and they left me—in silence.
Recent Posts: Amine Batbouti
Stranger: Of all the people in the whole world that you have ever known, or not. Of all the strangers in the whole universe that you have ever crossed paths with, or not. Lets say, hypothetically, that you happen to be next to a cliff and there, there is your “Woman,” your wife amongst the […]
Look at this finger and come here, smell it it’s clean, now let me tell you a secret; Messing with me wasn’t an option-never was, never will.
Hashem loves me—whatever you say.
How to ward off the robber; buy yourself many pairs of long sleeved turtleneck shirts. It’s a pleasure. Enjoy. End.
I’ve always been wondering as to why is it that I was the little girl who nobody would try to sell me photo shots from the photo booths in the carnivals. Now, I know why, it is because I had no expressions. Suffering in silence.
I’ve always been perplexed as to why is it that in some places people would steal from each other’s and others work, style, and ideas like it’s a normal thing, just like breathing. And then I lightened up, it got to me; these places will do shit like that all day long without giving it […]
Who says; unless stated otherwise, that it is okay to cover and/or use, a credited, someone else’s work to connect with/under your own—who says; unless stated otherwise, that they even like your work.
[Genesis 2:22 KJV “And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.”] Do call me; “He,” again for which we, women, were all he to begin with. See, it’s just that I was born different. Bestowed with unimaginable hardships to begin with, overcome, and […]
Never was I, nor will I ever beat on your level.
People had accuse me in the past of being unstable but rightly failed so to realise that settling stable on the same level was never of my purpose; “lol,” and neither never was I, nor will I ever beat on your level.
Deliberate copies and/or falsified reproduction of my work is not tolerated; anyone who initiate and/or knowingly holds such counterfeit is met with misfortune and losses.