The night will strike again,

through this mind’s mist,

deadening everything I hear.


That wanton smile

maneuvers to your face;

those rosy, sweet lips

I shall never taste.


Do not entice me

with your warped core.



Do not ensnare me;

release, from this torn mind

your image.



Do not love me,

find your lord,  your peace.


Keep from me


your wicked art,

your decrepit “heart”. 


By Hasan Habib