The Pirate’s Morals: Or how I stopped worrying and mastered a swords-orchestra.

Lover:

Back in the good old days, I would have spent time building a house of cards and I would have let the Jack of Spades be the house’s gate. My ego would have always paralyzed my tongue (but never my pen) and thus I will be stealing irresistible routine love looks at you through the inevitable gaps between the glossy cards. Whenever you catch me doing it, I’ll pretend to stare at absolute nothingness contemplating the geometry of my attic. I would have loved you through the house of cards and I would have spent my life doing it.


Human:

But no, things aren’t that routinely beau. People are made to be imperfect; they are made to make sins – mega fucking sins. As much as I’d like to show off the deeds I’ve done, I equally show off the fuck ups. Lovers are made to be hesitant, brothers to be greedy, parents to be careless, friends to be inconsiderate, God to be unfair and life to be a bitch. I wouldn’t blame you to think otherwise but rather cheap Egyptian and American drama that has been fed into our brains since we were children growing up in the early nineties. But you would just stay there at the gate of my house of cards, contemplating the beauty of your ivory tower, passively. The broiling Egyptian summer would force us to open some outlets for some breeze to come in. No need for introductions, the tower is brought down. You at the gate, weeping, pointing fingers mercilessly, and waiting for my big hands to pick you up and save you from the wreck. But no…


Pirate:

I have built what I was the cause of bringing down. I have been the caretaker, the obsessed-with, the slave in both time and space, the toy that is stuck to your own circle of little other spades. But what use is pretense? I am a self-centered pirate who is obsessed with the sound of clashing swords, and the last time I let some breeze in, the whole army of cards went down and started the battle that didn’t yet end. I had my own share of injuries – one must admit, and I fiercely gave a good portion to others too. I am still fighting with spades, hearts, diamonds and also clubs. But you Jack of Spades, are void of your sword. You can’t fight anymore and can’t point fingers anymore. You can keep running for all I care. You may believe you are more virtuous – I believe you are less human.