The woman in the wheelchair
still finds you funny although her laugh is silent
it is lost in shadow and smoke
hid beneath the cloak
of her stroke,
you can tell her a joke
she will probably get it
although the speaker may have gone
her sense of humour carries on

i stay out of it more than i used to,
painting pictures on a metaphorical canvas.
anything is possible if i want to
find something that catches on,
leave everything else that matters
and turn away from it all.

i have great conversations with myself,
drawing memories like a string to wrap and tighten.
i live and die keeping it to myself
with every though that spills through
like gasoline, begging for a lighter.
i stay out of it more than i used to.

I have poured out my love,
yet you never seem full.
I have shown much care,
yet you still couldn't see.
I have always been with you,
yet you still say you're all alone.
I have fought for you,
yet the battle seems unending.

And there I was feeling empty,
defeated, and unloved,
as I have been watering a dead plant.

So I decided to walk away,
and there I realized and saw
I am meant for so much more,
that there is a lot in this world and that it is so big,
than to settle for the crumbs of love
you find so hard to give.

why do i feel so disgusting?
i forced myself to put makeup, didn’t i?
this is all i wanted
to feel pretty, to be pretty

i pull my hair into a bun,
ask myself, “does this suit me?”
how can i come so far and still not feel at home in me?
why does it feel like forcing?
i’ve done everything, haven’t i?

why won’t i let myself be happy?
the way i am.
the way ive grown.
sabotaging the progress
still feeling disgusted

loving myself feels like a chore
a never-ending task with no reward
for years now, this gloomy feeling running behind me, like a wolf trynna catch its prey

am i my worse enemy?
why don’t i want to see myself with joy?
why don’t i want to feel pretty?
isn’t this what everyone wants?

i stare into the mirror
covered eyebags,
pink blush painting me sweet,
mascara framing my small eyes
behind my glasses
it’s not too much, just enough

but where’s the feeling?
where’s the woman i’m supposed to be?
still a child deep down in heart
they tell me i’m mature for my age
but look at me now, feeling underage
lost, out of place

never will i fit in
never will i find her
the me i lost long ago,
without even knowing

so much disgust,
so much hate
i apologize to god
for this awful thing:
doubting his creation,
his art in me

shouldn’t i be ashamed?
shouldn’t i be grateful?
but my mind is crowded
a thousand thoughts
and here i am  
killing myself softly,
unaware of the sting

The shadows of darkness
grew longer, as the stars
rays shortened, then all of
a sudden, they vanished.

                                       )  
                          |








Poem for Palestine

.   Does it bother you when a
    film highlights how women
    have been unfairly treated.

    Does it bother you when a
    film highlights how blacks
    have been discriminated.

    Does it bother you when a
    live news bulletin highlights
    a Muslim genocide by Jews.

i dont know how to
be better than i am now
but i got to try

Entropy:
No hope to See,
The world is sinking, lost in gloom.
And when will I embrace my doom?


In Russian:

Энтропия:
Никакие
Перспективы — мир ко Дну.
А когда я дотону?..