BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS

the quiet blink of sleep-filled eyes, and the inelegant violence of laughs that turn to coughs and splutters and sighs. I have viewed love through only my own eyes –and now through this poem.

Nadin Sadek

Where There’s Oil This Time

Once upon a time in a mega city saturated with amygdalic skyscrapers exfoliating the branches life offered, where dopamine levels mattered, and serotonin receptors had sewage blockages, you were pulling socks from the drawers of the people who you don’t love anymore.

I was faithless because I hadn’t bought you, and I hadn’t sold me, but the people were dying to see us happy.

We were warned not to bring personal issues into the workplace, and yet you ordered your building plans to tower further, against the engineering consultancy’s advice, and on bearings too perplexing for any builders drinking black tea with honey.

No princesses lived in this kingdom, nor dragons,