Ain’t say more…
I won’t listen anymore;
Every plasma inside me burning
Screams up in one word: “ENOUGH”.

Ain’t say more…
None of the livings listened
When I tried to articulate: I’m different,
Now, my tries outpour in one world: enough.

Ain’t say more…
It’s the end, listen to me;
My presence has been a torment to me,
As for all of us, then, end listening: enough.

Ain’t say more…
Just listen to my absence;
It has no sound, nothing all at once,
Then, believe in my nonexistence: it’s enough.

Ain’t say more…
The memory is horrible,
Maybe, just as I was, only a bad riddle
That a child enjoys, but the others scream up on it: ENOUGH.

Benyamin Bensalah


The last lust

The Hellfire might hide more pleasure
with the pain living and dying again-
Due to my careless, senseless life-
than living with an empty soul
that is able neither to live,
nor to make itself die.

I have no control on the present,
the past does not infect me-
who cares what happened;
the future ignores me-
so, my sole life goal:
to be or not to be.

Surely, earthlife is just a lie
painted by a smiling dye.
Oh ! How cruel is she
that saint deceiver,
bringing desire ‘n’
lust to suicide.

Benyamin Bensalah


A decade prolongation

I am hearing
about suicidal feeling
from every corner,
people living on the border
of living and dead
being depressed.

I am also seeing
people monthly leaving,
but never disappearing
in suicide attempts.

I guess I’m not healing,
but I don’t get the feeling
of regularly trying to kill
the self.

I – once I tried it,
more than a decade behind it,
and I never tried it

when I tried it,
I was serious about it,
and I already died in it
and I cannot be revived

Benyamin Bensalah


The pit

It’s a great pain, but I merit
Because I’m a man who said it,
So, if I said it to merit, let me get it,
All of it:
The pit
Without exit
Dark, not lit
Tight, but fit
Just sit
In it
Don’t omit
Just sit
In it
In the pit
That you merit
As you said it
So you have it
The pit
In it
Your shit
You’ve done it
You merit
And to quit
Just re-commit
In the pit
Before a visit
That gets you out of it
Just to give you a hit
Next to it
Back to it
Giving you the credit
That you do merit
And you belong to it
The pit
As habitat and habit
And to commit
Back in it
Till you quit
Because it is it
What you merit
Stay down in it
Till you say it
And believe it
That you merit
The pit.

Benyamin Bensalah


A missed call by Death

I dreamt a dream that some demons must have sent,
Feeling all the pains I underwent;
No pictures, no hues, just the feeling,
All my bruises and cuts without healing.

I dreamt a dream that was set as sent by Death,
But it did fit no reasoning, nor math;
No relief, nor aftermath, just the moaning,
Like a self-pity-full, endless night and morning.

I dreamt a dream that was meant to be my end,
A fearful damnation, not mend;
All the pain and immense sadness,
Making every deathwish sickeningly reckless.

I was sent a senseless dream with Death being mad,
Vengefully meaning me dead;
I felt blueishly cold and in dreadful purple,
Hiding in my last reckless prayers as a turtle.

I was meant to dream a dream that was chance or warning,
Putting up the black phone calling;
With every evidence Death’s hands hang,
I wished not dreaming that dream while it just rang, rang, rang…

Benyamin Bensalah