Fettish Systems

36.291055

GAMAL

Fetish Systems

‫ﻧ ُﻈﻢ‬ ‫اﻟﻬ َ​َﻮس‬ 33.519466

His nihilistic torment, her torment, our torment, its torment, my torment, their torment,

the punishing hopelessness that resonates inside him, a lack of purpose he knows who is causing his pain, he is causing his own pain - the pain is he - watch his pain - he feels something

we both feel.

The Denouncing of all beings and sense of self.

I am the reader - the writer - the maker of worlds - the destroyers of worlds and everything in it.

There is nothing of importance to him, but he values everything.

There is not truth in his words and no lies.

I am the only being . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

*PAUSE*

It’s just me and you – I.

Breathe out…

Breathe in …

breathe in.

hold it

Breathe.

The suffocating sound of silence. . . .

I love it, it whispers.

The typical constructs of life that control us, that help you function, I depend on them to live. The gears that turns the wheels my fingers that turn the page. He loves the sensations of pain. The sensation of breaking the system.

Our mothers nurtured us, taught us, fed us, cared for us, suckled him and I. His mother has left him, and my mother will leave me. We learnt his ways of upbringing. An innocence that has been lost, a childhood I have not seen for years but visit often.

His dead little boy tells me of violence and the blood in his head, but his past is not his present, yet we still share the same name with our past, present and future.

The constructs of men are what identify him, yet, I don’t understand if it is him,

her,

he,

she,

it.

He

must not allow himself to cry.