Five P.M With Rona Shalhoub

Rona had a five p.m. appointment with her therapist. It was a Friday. She knew she was going to cancel at four p.m, to call up her friend Bam, have three beers, and 11 shots of tequila. She laid her head on her old pillow and thought about getting a feather stuffed one. She stretched her body on the worn out mattress and wondered how much a medical one would cost.

Rona decided to take a cold shower. She prepared the shower playlist, placed the post-its with the song lyrics written on them inside little baggies. The first song she chose to sing was Thriller by Michael Jackson. She figured she would be able to hit all the hiccup sounds and screeches, and she did – thanks to the cold water.

She locked the door to her shitty apartment and stumbled on Bam’s foot. He stood in front of her, smiling his idiotic smile. She just sighed, grabbed his hand and they both ran towards the bowling bar at the end of the street. Rona knocked on the opaque glass door. Andre opened a tiny hatch, winked at her, and welcomed them in as usual. Being the first costumers every single day, earned them free beer and tequila shots.

Rona’s Casio watch ticked, it was 5 p.m, and she hadn’t called to cancel her appointment yet. Her phone rung the moment that thought crossed her mind.

“Rona, where are you?”

She thought about an answer that wouldn’t sound evasive or rude. “About to get drunk, Tania. How about you call it a day and come join me and a couple of other friends.”

Tania flicked her hair, as if Rona could see her. “You are no longer my patient. I can’t keep on cancelling on other people for you. You never show up. But, yeah, I’ll join for drinks. Where you at?”

Rona smirked. “In that case, you are no longer invited bitch.” And she hung up.




Raging Hormones

They talk a lot

Drink a lot

Fuck a lot

Nag a lot

Raging hormones…

They moan a lot

Sniff a lot

Scream a lot

Lie a lot

Raging progesterone…

They’re always angry

Always right

Always victims

Always under a non-existent spotlight

Always raging

Raging pheromones…

They like faking

Breaking stuff

Breaking people

Being in control

Being out of control

Raging testosterone…

They’re always sexy

Always horny

Always drunk

Always out of thought

Raging progesterone…

And what foolishness is:

Wasting hope among these

Wasting moments

Wasting ink…


Soul La Si

Took a seat by my window, in love with a bird
She will come, she will come again
To sing to me, to never read my letters
She is what I’m drinking about
“Come Nightingale ! Night is here
It’s a full sky tonight
Spill your vocabulary down my cheeks
Your incoherent rythm and your double-swing

Don’t tuck your head under your wing
Don’t pretend to be asleep
I have no guns, just some wine..”

There she is ! See her fly
There is no tomorrow in the sky
Every note of every hymn through her beak
Nostalgia, in my heart
A leak

Let me say, and I am sure
When Shakespeare wrote
“I love thee”
He was listening to your
So La Si 

Stumble in

*Knock knock*

She stumbled in with a cigarette between her fingers and said:

“I was gonna have my last one

Apparently, I lied

Sometimes, I lie about lying

Sometimes, I lie on the pavement

Sometimes, I don’t

Sometimes, I sit still and watch myself decay

Sometimes, I lie on my couch and talk to myself, although you’re sitting beside me; I can’t feel you anymore or anything or anyone

Am I lying ? I don’t even know anymore

or do I ? And I’m lying

Sometimes, I don’t know where I stand

Sometimes, I don’t know where I fall

Sometimes, I call you when I’m drunk

I always call you when I’m high

Sometimes, I love you

Sometimes, I don’t

Sometimes, I like to drag people down with me

I always apologize though

But apologizing doesn’t seem to work anymore

So I lie a little more

I lie till I can’t lie no more

I lie about the truth, because I know nothing about the truth

or do I ? And I’m lying.”

Suffer, Write, Repeat

I squeeze my pen once again to grab life by its hand

I shake her hand and ask her “Am I deaf ?”

Life has no answers

I never heard the sound of settling and I never want to hear it

I want to remain a deaf stranger

For there is no home outside the womb; and we’re all strangers to this world


Synapse to synapse to synapse…


I tried to heal your bruises but it turns out that you are my bruise

My little wanderer who never knew her way back

And WHY does it matter if you don’t even remember?

I always ask you and myself the same questions

No one seems to know the answers

No one seems to know anything

Like deaf people singing to each other in the same abyss over and over again

We like to call it “Love”


Synapse to synapse to synapse…


Blaming someone never did any good

It’s not how blame works

Blame eats at you until you crumble in a corner wishing that you were still trapped in your mother’s cave of Nirvana and eternal bliss

I never wanted to escape that cave

they pulled me out and slapped me on the butt to declare my first trauma

The trauma of birth.

The birth of trauma.

The first link in the chain of life:

Suffer, Write, Repeat

Suffer, Write, Repeat

Suffer, Write, Repeat






Never Knew

I never knew where her passion for life stems from

I never knew..

She walks on the river like a Lotus flower

She floats gently, she tastes sour

I watch her from the watchtower

I witness the significance of her existence

Keeping the world in harmony and balance

I never knew how she does it

I never knew..

Eyewitnesses were questioned and couldn’t answer where her passion for life stems from

They never knew

I never knew

I took a bite of the Lotus flower and started to wonder whether she is human or even mortal

Whether she is real or just an illusion

But what is reality?

I never knew..

Last Call

Resting on the pavement –
A cigarette and enough
time to look at a star up high,
the brightest;
a radiant fireball dripping
an omen.

Perhaps I should go into this bar…
This binge started at some other bar, I’m sure.

I’m spinning on the bar stool,
looking around.

Two wine glasses dreaming of eternity;
a couple of tequila shots living carpe diem;
twin beer pints promising never to tell;
and amid the racket
my tears.

The star’s a pale complexion
with vivacious features,
with pronounced charms and grace,
and with a stare,
a stare that could divert Cupid’s arrow

She gets up – supple waist –
And comes my way.
A swarm of pelicans take flight inside of me.
She stands before me.
Venus holds my hand,
opens her mouth…
Nothing comes out and I understand it all.