چشمان من روزی به خواب خاک می روند
بی آنکه مجالی یابند تا سیاهی تقدیر را
باری دیگر به تو بیاموزند.
همان برق ناخودآگاه اختصاصی که تو را لرزاند
و از پوشش آینه وار پلکهای داغ من تیرکشان خارج شد.

نگاه من تو را در نوسان خود می بلعد
و سیاهی مژگان خیس من دلتنگی خود را
بایاد آن شب تابستان بروی تپش مات چشمانم می کشد.

برای من فروغی نیست از این کدورت بی فرجام ,
چرا که مرا پیوندی باید با ابدیت دستهایت
و آهنگ نامنظم ناخنهایت روی دیوار گچی
که با طعم تن عریانت در آمیخت و مرا سرود یگانگی شد.

بی شک آن شب تو را خواب می دیدم ,
چرا که زندگی هراسان مرا به یاد آورد
از حرکت مدار رنج چون چرخی کاسته.
ولی دریغا, عشق را لحظه ای کافیست برای شکفتن... ن

When you're deep in shit...

When you are deep in shit, time is muter than yogurt.
When you are deep in shit, your lips are a different colour.
When you are deep in shit, you are dipped in shit, you should be served with a bit of olive oil and urine dressing.

When you are deep in shit, you don't realize the difference between the temperature and temperature. Your hands, your arms, your legs and your genitals are like worms with no heads wrapped around each other, crying out silent in quiet, warm, peaceful shit that resembles home...sweet home... That's what shit tastes like, sweet and sour with a bitter kick, better old, best served cold, like Pinot Grigio.

When you are deep in shit, you fall in love with your nose blocked, your eyes locked, your smile numb. You'd think love is all you need to fight shit, as it turns out your love descends from your shit, your deep, smelly, perfectly figured, meticulously passed with time to spare on the toilet, always comes first and later, later, later there's always time for love...
But my dearest, you can't see, for you, love is shit and shit is home... home... where everybody knows your name...

Come over one last time...

I can’t believe I can’t spell believe. where to sir? How did all your feelings vanish so easily and mine rushed deeper and deeper? How can I tear out my eyes without blinking? what do I see in my hair that makes me wanna vomit? I feel burnt... I feel burnt into my very core... I ask you when you’re gonna be here and you say late!!!! how late exactly? one year? two years? How can you be so dead inside and yet my flooding emotions surround you secondly and then it’s gone... I have to be careful to keep them to myself next time, ‘cause I’m sure it’s what tickles any dead soul to arise as if they share it... No one could, no one would. It’s me... It’s me, the heart that beats lust every second and circulates love subsequently... Who can see it behind the ice cold look. Who would want to feel it now and again? I feel so dead and yet you want to come late... probably after the match... There is always a match and the winner takes it all while the loser has to fall... I wish there was a shorter passage to hell, so I could save my time rehearsing it. The letters are dormant in my head. I don’t even wanna bother arranging them to make a word. Loneliness is getting through to me and it might take my breath away tonight. I don’t wanna see the morning dark as the bed lacks the evening light. Who would guess that I’d be madly in love with a corps...

It`s not an easy game to play...

I`m having nightmares again. It`s funny when you want to pull your fingers out and you can`t do it. Life is bitter, even when I`m dreaming. The minutes are 98 seconds each and the seconds are a year long. What`s going through your mind that makes you want to leave the life your living as a bubble caught up in the deep blue waves like the colour of your hair rays with split ends. You really have to treat it some time... Your eyes go smaller than the freckles around your upper lip that crashes the sound trying to come out of the hole beneath it. It goes round and round with tears to pound the arteries not the heart `cause it`s too tired to shake the muscles. I can`t breathe, since the sound of the exhale disturbs me. I need my peace. How many blankets did you throw away last night? You said it was gonna be warm but it wasn`t...it never is. I got my fingers stuck on your icy figure, will you please move away so that they fall off. I tried so hard last night when I went to grandpa`s house in my dream and grandma was just a solid object lying beside him. He never moved her after she died. I tried to scratch the walls, the steps the mirror but I couldn`t find my fingers. It was so dark. Mom says you can never find anything. It`s always right there in front of your eyes, in the top drawer...But I found one thing mom. My very own loneliness in the dark and I enjoyed the shadows passing by every once in a while but none of them stayed for a cup of tea. They had to catch the flight and it was late. Next time, I`m gonna catch it too through the window that opens out just enough to fit the slide of the shadows that want to escape. Next time I will fit too, `cause I found my shadow...in the top drawer...

Salted sugar

I can`t let go of my soul...the rigid cartilage wants me to lay back, the fracture is a little lower that the vivid rage on my temples...my vagina is sore, ever since you have melted my liquid all the way through... you watched the movie silently, motionless and cruel...my eyes followed the rays radiating from your clueless darkened pupils, into the tunnel of fragile sense of tiredness `till the tiny vein on my lower eyelid burst into tears... I don`t have to remind me of the breath I lack, forming the excruciating pain in the deepest tubes of my left lung.
Do you have to laugh so loud? People need their beauty sleep... What the bleep are these Christmas bells for? Can`t you see the wrecks of the drowned ship, laying somewhere remote down the open waters of my dormant heart seem too heavy to care to move... There are no butterflies shaping in my guts.

The wind is blowing, that deadly white wind is blowing…

Your face is showing, the cure, the yellow sorrow, the wind is blowing…

My heart is slowing, only three fingers left out of the red pond, like the petals of the silent rose, she drowned…the wind is blowing…

Your eyes are enjoying, the tarot cards ritual, she was so secure with the spirit and instinct and desire…shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, the wind is blowing…

My mind overflowing, the colors, the LED lights halo around the bosom of the walnut tree and the garden disappeared forever once she couldn`t get the lily pad to dace when the wind was blowing…that deadly white wind was blowing…

D*d you k*ow that th*re was a girl wh*...

I`m watching myself, I`m watching myself and suddenly I go blind. I have to freeze everything …everything. There`s no way to go back in time and realize the fucked up going back in time. I don`t see anything would happen. My monitor goes blind. The light is coming in by force. I don`t really need it as I already have my stomach light since I`ve been feeling sick for a 100 years now. Why can`t I understand the meaning of frozen? Frozen mind? Frozen stomach? Frozen nipples? Frozen fog?

I can`t remember the fog as it was trying to keep up with the length of the river and yet it didn`t cover the sound of the clock announcing the hour 4 times and all I heard was the low battery alert. Am I really that permanent? So why can`t I remember the words? Is this my handwriting? I don`t think so…It`s so neat. It must be computer`s. Why isn`t she shouting at me? I have been nothing but whinny.

I have figured the tangly mumbles of an Italian woman that flew over the chart of happiness regardless of the fact that he couldn`t understand Italian. I have seen my world is small outside the window and I have to pray to learn to fly to see the sea again and again where my mother thinks I`m still sick but the fact is that I`ve been crying over something that I have been crying over and over for the thing that I have been crying for, over the times. But I know someday, I could see myself from the ceiling and I won`t be blind `cause I`m dead and the curtain finally will have won the fight…Look, there`s no more light coming in…