"BEATING THE FEAR OF JINN INTO ME" 2025
A shortfilm by Diba Jeliza-Rose Khalaj & Maya Gunhilda
Beating the fear of Jinn into me / ترس از جن من را کامل کرد
"Yalda is institutionalized in a religious home due to bag of air shenanigans, and general questionable behavior. The home induces changes in Yalda, winter is approaching and the nun Bernadette with horrible culinary skills, desperately tries to indoctrinate the sick young girl."
Diba Jeliza-Rose Khalaj as Yanda
Maya Gunhilda as Buckteeth Bernadette
Narrated by Diba Jeliza-Rose Khalaj
Soundtrack is Maya Gunhilda breathing and playing jaw harp.
"Beating the fear of Jinn into me" 2025
Text by Diba Jeliza-Rose Khalaj & Maya Gunhilda
When summer ends and the cold sneaks upon you
Bare legs and scurvy, you start to question your presence.
Should you leave everyone behind?
Cry for the end, or kill the hurting.
The same thing every year.
Warm narcissism, like your mothers' slow cooked head of sheep soup.
with prized pieces, the eye of the sheep, tongue of the sheep, and the enriching brain of the sheep.
One moment you might find yourself in the very north of Finland.
Drinking moonshine from a mug,
all alone and nude in your smokey apartment complex.
it tastes like a dogs sweat
No intentions of going out, or even of leaving.
At other times locked into grim hallucinations of tragedies striking family and lovers
Oh how they all will feel sorry for you, as the last one standing.
You have three months of the year with sun,
By the time June comes wandering, you’ll still be recovering from spring’s mania.
June too is the woman you loved, but never could have.
You both were yearning, but it wasn't meant to happen.
Lost in love, and sex with your pants on.
You itch your inner thigh for ideas.
Hmmm this one came to you fast, you tell your dear leg
“dont walk me into trouble today”
Blaming everyone else it the easy shortcut,
And admit it, you love it.
You scare everyone, to not get scared of your own self.
You refuse hospital ham for dinner,
for four years ago you knew someone who went by ham.
And he rubbed you ill, wrong way and too eager.
All this rambling and self pity,
“Maybe you should try navigating all your negative emotions and engage in a hobby”
three years of dancing and seven years of bad luck.
For mommy once said, you are a mouthbreathing miracle,
but always unhappy and never properly present.
Hallucinating briskets and party favors
but the invitation never even reached you.
For years you hung around Dún Laoghaire,
sitting on wet rocks, suffering fog.
mimicking seagulls wishing there were bigger and better birds to taunt.
You are bedbound and beyond bad
you see yourself a bug
crawling into spaces they say you don't belong.
All the openings and you never hit the spot.
You tangle your wet ponytail with further dirt
and can't help your own intuitions.
The bath water will be slurped
for warm enrichment and fuel.
Your skin again is itching
someone save you cause Jesus wont.
This time your idea is sheer pretend
for amusement and essence.
A matter for absent days
This bitch is biting bait believing a sleek serpent game.
Your first mistake of the day was cold coffee,
it might induce mania or it might leave you weary.
The inside of your mouth is warm and clumpy,
In sheer fear, the dead cheek skin you bite.
And at times you’ll spit it at the grave of a stranger.
Peter the bitsy spider, with the long lanky legs.
Your parsnip looking friend from childhood,
just again talked right at you.
The options for roads, it will all be a gamble.
None will strike you gold, for times hard to swallow.
but simple its good,
if rising above means to step on you.
On winter's arrival
The snow is less than last year.
as a kid you could butt sleigh down the devils hill
but even that has been melted for years.
and all children shielded from the troublesome cold.
Wanting it different, but falling ill with the thought of change.
You have half a mind now
the other half eaten by bad boy Benny Bob.
Whom you forever will despise for selling flop to sky high prices.
You were not desperate
Just young and unbeknown to the quality of junk.
It's been years, but Benny Bob remains a mortal enemy
The last thing you heard, he wont stop squealing perverted rhymes
and persist on cock jelqing in the restroom at the local gym.
For the cat that you miss, every time you let go.
You named him Kurt Lemming
Kept you warm in the winter
by your side in the old home.
You love all the goofy pets
the borzoi dog and the giant anteater.
Walked on a leash in the tunnels of Paris.
Striking power divine, snouts reaching for high heaven.
Feeding the blue tits,
They take it raw from your hand
Soon they too will fly far away
come again spring they will be back after winter
as a child you would use the jumparoo,
hop as high as you could
and into a bush of stinging nettles
just to get a feeling of relief
You sense old friendships emerging around you.
Dread to the ones who never tried sticking around
can't be bothered with you, all whine no shine.
For a matter of fact, when notes break glass and icicles skulls.
The snow’s howling welcoming sounds and memories,
But for them, they won't acknowledge your existence.
And you ask yourself where to find the art,
the piece with the sunken down cars of disaster,
parked around the nasty store you used to shop at.
Your feet are cold, and your thoughts are racing.
For your best girl Annie with the peg leg
and charming gapped teeth, she’ll be with you for the time.
Spending hardships, decline and agreements over much milk.
The place is forsaken, but elsewhere you don't feel ever wanted.
For the hurting it brought you, the rememberings will never fade
Buckteeth Bernadette, whom you thought to be a sadist, scratching every itch.
Young Agnes with the absent father, Allan-Joe the self proclaimed head of law,
Mighty Magdalene with all her power to control you,
Sweet Farah whom you wished you could have protected from the world you lived through.
Beth Kudina’s loud weeping, Valerie the friend you made and later lost.
Katinka who stole all your bright ideas, Methanie the unexplained,
And biohazard Ruben who always seemed to get himself in listeria trouble.
The forest you used to roam for solitude,
now a rich person's hiking track.
Posing for pictures of their new hidden treasure,
A place you felt as yours, now exposed for the mass.
Next winter, you bet will come hit even harder.
You wish to go to distant lands, islands.
for the chance of seeing a gooney bird up close.
Gently touch its beak and befriend it,
till it lifts you up on its meters of wings
riding above the small town that caused you so much pain.
why would the they flee their original homes for this sticky clinging weather
it leaches onto your skin as a fucking diesease
you look at the sealing and see your ancestors laugh until they cry
“you stupid daughter of a dog, you had a choice and you chose this?”
well yes you could see, but you couldn't speak
and now you can scream and laugh as much as you want to without anyone questioning
while getting paid by anne-sofie jensen and colonizer company.