Red, wrinckled and balmed
Your shaky thigh, my sweaty palms.

What if I say, I am not like the others?
Are you afraid of seeing my bloodshot eyes?
It ain’t a delusion of your vision
It ain’t a theory of your hostile mind
Its just an authority to reveal high
As you ****** up in the midnight.

What if I declare, I like to be a pothead?
It ain’t a crime of your filthy society
It ain’t a ****** of your hypersexual beauty
Its just a power to absorb black hole
As you get dissolved in the infinity.

What if we believe, we are united peace?
Our intoxication could never be slayer as your humanity diminishes  
Our immune could never be a flame as your democracy fire burns  
Our dealing could never be an acrid as your judgments villainous
Our indignation could never be a pretender as your sensibility veiled
Our lonesome shadow could never be a congress of love as your realization mortifies
And our congregation of morality must have been psychedelic painkiller.

What if we deny, we are insignificant existence?    
So, who are you crippling our bloodshot eyes, A Social featherbrain?
Who are you to stop having "dopetherone" in the town, A godly crusader?
Who are you to proclaim the rule against your mind, A phrenetic lawyer?

What if we deny, we are insignificant existence?  
What if we believe, we are united peace?

We will keep walking with our head held high.*

April' 2015

Once my birth was simple:
you made me up unwillingly;
I leaped from your forehead like
Athena did from Zeus'.
You were more than just a father-figure
and back in those days
you found joy in my design.
From a glance of you
I learned the light,
from another the darkness itself.
I craved to know more
but somehow you lost the will teach me;
to finish my making real.
And now
in the embrace of
your torturing abandonment
I became my own midwife:
to learn my own creation,
to be my own design.