I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I

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

05.05.2020

It’s not working well

It’s not working well…
My knees fell
To where
I had had a puddle.

It’s not working well…
In that puddle,
My soul should dwell,
But now, there’s a well.

It’s not working well…
In the well –
Deeping  until hell –
There’s no water.

It’s not working well…
From the hell,
Sounds come up to rebel,
Antipersonnel.

It’s not working well…
I’m unwell,
Infidel,
The well is my chapell.

Benyamin Bensalah

09.09.2018

Elle in nutshell

There’s a story I cannot tell,
Cannot yell, cannot sell.

No one buys it how I fell,
But all believes it; it was well.

I’m genuinely so unwell,
Being so self-antipersonnel.

I’ve been living in the hell,
But I sent my heaven to expel.

And now, to say farewell,
I cannot even utter, “Good bye, …..”

Benyamin Bensalah

10.10.2019