His death poem:

        A bath when you're born,
        a bath when you die,
        how stupid.

Magnificent dragon
Its fire burns from within
Black, so black
Threatening smell spreads on the ground

Hidden and cool
Breathe so calm
A one, a two, a three
I have became another statue

But I am only human
Brash heart should beat more
I should sweat more, wet and flood
Let it be, let the dragon know I fear it

I wrote you letters
Only to burn it later
Then write hundreds more

You
forgot to take your mother's kitten out of the oven.
She smiles on a trance
like Avalokiteśvara in a lotus
reeks of God, a melting honeycomb.
Bake me some pottery, would
you? But the clay
has grown so much its pants no,
no longer fit.

The dove faked a laugh
and Noah would clap.
Clap and clap and clap.
He told Emzara to leave him
and only him and only him
and only him
alone, for Chronos had put a chaos
on Themselves, and, and
Delilah would cry in joy when the pillars collapsed
along with her soul, along with her soul.

But you chose to pray to another
whom is not the arrow nor a lampshade on a hotel room,
whom is not a sun nor a xylophone nor the title of your favorite song nor the bricks you'd
tied on your
waist.

The stars' greetings unanswered, unanswered, unanswered.
O, dear, o my dear sky whom is polluted!
Cataract on the moon, moon that hollows air as, as I lose the setting sun that is
you.

You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.

Little by little
Quietly let the explosives out of her head
But what erected the stone
Wasn't an explosion

She wanted red cheeks
Instead of roses or lips
Pinkish breath
Instead of pale, white pills

Raisin brain
Pulled out nails, polished
Teenagers are so sweet

Left eye, right eye
Lend her some
To play, to play, to play

I knew when the sun went through your body. Tangled veins all over your yellowish bones. Your flesh were a three colored ribbon; blue, green, and purple. You seemed a lot like a garden where you'd used to hide some of your bruises. You always told me that there was no treasure box shimmering like your sweat and blood drips but oh how poor, how poor of you that you've never had seen the glimmer on your tender eyes that was a sleeping, sound blue star. Now you know why I didn't believe it when you said you were born from the womb of a tree. You lied as much as you coughed. I didn't like it. But the syllables your tongue had made were tender and the intangible comfort I'd felt made me forgot to complain. I knew it when you said you were a karst and I was the river you kept so dearly like the teddy bear you wouldn't let anyone to touch. I never had seen if you had a teddy bear but only for that one, I believed you. I still do.

On Wednesdays we used to burn books together. You knew I loved the way they became ashes so sometimes you'd let me too. But how would I forgive you, oh you? On that one Thursday I wished it were me who'd turned into the pages. And I still do oh I still do.