The Lake of Depression

I remember as a village member,
I cut a memorable road in the wood…

I remember as a walking wobbler,
Some deep thrill made shrill the route,
Covered by the blackness of Blackwood.

I remember as a faint bystander,
What a dark power had that wild park,
Beware-embraced, making my eyes sharp,
Taking its hideous darkness like a lark.

I remember with a tender temper,
Some river’s ripping ceased my shiver,
I – a thinker, harkened the silent timber,
How the water seduced me to drink her,
Whether I will fall to flaw, following her.

I remember as a deep slumber,
I answered the call, the fanfare, I heard;
The song of the fake stream was a lake,
A lake calling me with its narcotic ache.

I remember as I remember,
As if that freak lake wanted me to keep,
As if that deep lake… made me to leap.

The only I remember as a member of the lake,
As if I cut a memorable road in the wood…

Benyamin Bensalah


Galactic gallow

Like the bacteria living on volcanic sulphur,
I am doomed to live in my dark sepulchre –
no visitors, no wind-brought flowers;
I am mourning alone the longest last hours.

I am breathing agony like vaporized mercury,
hoping that some day will come to bury –
bury every feeling that cannot be beared alone;
finally getting along with myself, finding a home.

I’ve marched in the Pluto’s coldest valleys,
burnt my heart away on Venus’ alleys –
my galactical travel in the dark matter
made me a living black hole; nothing does matter.

I could be promised with another solar system,
another parallel dimension’s enthusiasm –
but the beauty of nature taught me already;
the paradise is falling, so be steady.

A dead organic organism, I am, travelling,
either escaping or sometimes just dwelling –
I will find no place on Earth, nor in the space;
Here I am locked down, and I will face what I am to face.

Benyamin Bensalah


You know me

I make you forget everything on the world,
Even the world you used to know,
I change, modify it no one will recognize,
Because I know how to do.

I make you forget your cats, your parents,
Even paternal yelling used to be heard,
I mute, paraIyze it into wind,
Because I know how to do.

I make you forget everybody, but one,
Even your own roles you used to play,
I complicate its easiest act,
Because I know how to do.

Forget.. And admire that only silouette,
Even if you loose your soul and mind,
You can live only in my rapture,
Because I am…

Benyamin Bensalah


Ounce in life

I’d been eagerly trying –
begging, pushing hard and crying
to implant, to find a meaning in life.

I wanted someone to share –
giving what I could never have, a shelter
to break the curse of feeling as unwanted in life.

I try to forget the sadness –
living through all the madness
to see my fate that I am just condemned in life.

I’m not hiding I’m unwell –
wanting no help to share my hell
to infect more with that I am getting in life.

I will be soon ended –
being a mistake for I pretended
to try to find any other reason than to die in life.

Benyamin Bensalah



I have nothing to wait for.
Not a single message sent,
Nor a randomly liked comment.
Even songs have no sound,
No series makes good episode.

I have nothing to wait for.
Even weed lets me down,
Not a single joy hides in the lawn.
No party made of drinks,
Nor a drink that makes me wink.

I have nothing to wait for.
No beauty wakes my desire,
Nor a warming feeling in a girl’s hi.
Even a kiss has no warmth,
Not a smooth caressing comforts.

I have nothing to wait for.
No faces on the street with a sense,
Nor my eyes do a glance.
Even stepping to crap without frown,
Not a sight to see in the town.

Nought. I have no more to wait for.
Now, the think of death leaves me cold,
No life interests me anymore.
No awkwardness writing these lines,
I fit no more worldly designs.
I have nothing to wait for.

Benyamin Bensalah



Today, it’s the twenty-eighth crossed bar on my cell.
I cannot say simply, but let me describe the term:
I was condemned as baby to live through this hell,
formed grossly from my dickhead father’s sperm.

Absurdly but my life could be a perfect examplar
why one should abort or just take an exam
before throwing a life into air without any care;
before owning a soul whom the gods damn.

Owning without owning because I’m all way abandoned;
never had what normies call healthy parenting,
but apparently I never wanted this file reopened –
I’m careless about all, don’t need that venting.

I’ve been abused, traumatized, but I’m way worse –
and I’m still highlighting it’s without my consent
that I am who I am, my own monster in this curse
of individual and collective torture I was sent.

I’d be happy to say that there’s a “what hurts me most”,
but unfortunately, I have no much to blame;
I’m thanking who tried to save me and am sorry they lost,
and am sorry I hurt them, but my sorries are lame.

So, this is my cell, still, an individual hell without circles;
there’s no goal, nor degrees to go through –
I’m just here with the immense thoughts’ whirlpools –
Been stressed to quit, now I’m just waiting my queue.

Today, it’s the twenty-eighth crossed bar on my cell.
I couldn’t say simply because there’s no way to tell.
I just wished to find my place inside this terrible hell-
that I may deserve; I hope others will be well.

-With hope there will be no more stickbars to chisell.

Benyamin Bensalah


Chairy tale

Through my life,
Every single scale of the timeline,
Had a different story to tell,
About me and the chair.

In the morning,
As a newborn, growing,
Used to paddle around its four pillars,
Curved up in its shade as caterpillars,
I looked up to the throne of giants,
To the mountain-sized defiance,
Saying: I will climb that once.

In the midday,
My life’s halfway,
I rode daily my chairy pony,
Bouncing on its legs and knees,
Saying: I play on this.

In the afternoon,
Life was no more a toon,
I sat on that chair as that should be,
My hurting back had plea only,
Saying: I really need a walk.

In the evening,
Roped, but breathing,
I’m to kick away the chair,
Saying: I have no more affair.

The life is not a fairy tale,
It was a chairy tale.

Benyamin Bensalah