hi, it's friday. i
am saying your name, but no
longer in prayer.

My love, what gives me
peace; without war there is none-
My love, what gives me life; also what kills-
what knows; like the cat I
have nine times to die.
Deadline, there is something much
more important; suicide prevention lifeline.
My love, my right to live, my right to die;
I wish I were deeper than
children section at the pool-
Where I first tried to drown-
Water loves but you
are the most; Since you found me,
since I found you,
since then I recognized you
in blood vessels, living in
tummy that used to be afraid of soda.
My love, I make you weak, never stronger
than ever; I make you light,
never hold so much, never be another than
malnutritional.
My love, I will not let go of you,
just like you won't of me.
I only **** you, like you do,
like you had done, I did it,
bare-handed.

coffee and words and sylvia.

they are all dead,
i buried them
with my corpse.

in a same hole.

with a same nameless headstone,
but only my skull
would remain.
and someday someone would find
the teeth i left and think;
"she wanted storms."

actually i am one.
with the eye named sylvia,
but coffee makes her blind,
like a love.

"love is a verb,"
you said.

keep coughing up
butterflies;
i only have
dead ones.

resurrection out of date.

funny ideas.
betrayed reality.
i made you up inside my head.

the midnight songs you used to play
on the radio-
it is better than your voice;
it hurts less, the aches are light;
soft wind at purplish evening.
forming bruises, even without ink they do fade;
permanent scars- open often, bleed; rush!
lesser than a tattoo,
low quality yet overrated,
nothing like flickering fire-
art? it is actually trash.

I will not choose one-
Scattering the energy;
Is not it a choice?

A mantra song I do not remember the
meaning it holds- repeated over and over-
in a lotus; no, thighs too big they become
forest, as tonight's dream swings with time,

as your tomorrow becomes my relief, as the
red star winks at the hidden moon; shy
****** curtain, laundry's cheap perfume,
underlined flaws and jellyfishes on a tiny

plate, melting candle, lavender, sweet green
tea and salted butter. Nostrils reek of *****,
bathroom break, do not be late, please wake
up early, earlier than ever. When the east

comes, let's fall asleep with the lights on,
we are not even the moon; souls do not need
sun, or vegetables, or green things growing
happily like someone's five year old- not

my parents', never- they lost the four, the
most important before a five- an incomplete
puzzle, cut neck of a giraffe, eyes black like
coffee black holes, who does not want that?

Chemical terms keep saying hello to the
tiles, count me in, let's have a drink, glasses
of sparkling mineral water. I prefer it clear.
River; never does flow- becomes a yellow

lake. Pretty pretty sands, no one is unique,
a diamond and a thousand more- a pearl, a
wounded shell, mermaid's sadness and a
knife- bubbles covered ocean; sunsets and

fireworks, a birthday, reality and a nymph
with a wing; the bells are calling us as if we
are not yet that cow, grasses greener than
green, numbers of dead things are

increasing, as heartbeats keep piling up like
the books you bought but never read- they
cry at night, especially when it is moonless
and cloudless, like tonight from the

baseball field; where the moths talk about
jealousy and sleepy handsome bats at nine
p.m.- marching chests, a lonely festival, a
ghost house; where lives begin- End.

There is nothing more mother than my land;
Where I want to be buried alive--
Red brownish soil is the warmest arms for a hug,
a hug too long I decompose
in calmness too peaceful the angels fall asleep,
God forgets there is hell,
borders erased, all becomes infinitive one,
it's purely true peace.
Choir of devils, a pool of love songs,
honest teeth and bites, truthful,
wonderful as baby's skin and toes.
There is nothing sweeter than the bitter.
The tongue of the ocean to lick the wounds,
flowers too young to bloom,
here we are, too pure to have a spring,
seasons are just too fatty.
Poetry does not end too soon;
Even when goodbye is not said--
These words are in a hurry but they stuck, because
narrow mind is always messy,
and the mess is too scared to speak.