by Eiman Ilyas

Bars, Cocaine and lit cigars,
Have convinced us who we are
In shadows by day, roaming by night
We’ll be going to another bar tonight
Shunned by society, finding our own,
Remnants of a soul, skin and bone
Mother and father never cared
That same quality, their children shared
We see the world in black and white,
Without the love, without the light
Eight weeks, and we’re drained of faith,
Hearts ablaze but only with hate
12 am, useless prattle,
To divert our minds from the next day’s battle
Scars hidden by long sleeved coats
Burning eyes and tightened throats
Slow minds, impudent tongues,
Smoking till we burn our lungs
Thin figures, calloused skin,
High from the adrenaline
Stashes and stashes of illegal coke,
Spending on them until we’re broke
Tattoos and piercings are an art,
Chained minds and guarded hearts
Soiled clothes, broken threads,
Indifference embedded in our heads
Morning arguments, midnight feuds,
It’s only Wednesday and we’ve run out of food
Seven days without a bath,
Noisy sidewalks, drunken laughs
Stalking us is a trail of flies,
Disgusted looks, disapproving eyes
No cab in sight, walking home
Only to find we’re still alone
Empty kitchens, bare of food,
Dusty beds and lifeless rooms,
We need help but we don’t concede
In a selfish world, the selfish succeed
Hope – an old concept, no prayer sent above,
Numb from the hate, numb from the love
Wasting life in reckless dreams,
We’ve lost ourselves in false ecstasy

Editor’s Note on False Ecstasy:

False Ecstasy is not Eiman Ilyas’ first publication in Eastlit. The following pieces of work have appeared in earlier Eastlit issues:

• To All the Broken Children was in Eastlit October 2015.