Twinkle twinkle little light
How I wonder that you might
Give my sight a bit of joy
Through this wooden toy.

How I wish that it could just
Speak to him and so, entrust
All my thoughts, my love and care,
He would be my only glare!

I would care not that its flesh
Is a piece of pine refreshed
By my old and wrinkled hands,
That's not where its value stands!

Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I wonder if you are
Listening to this old fool
Who has nothing but his tools

And his silence and long beard
And some hope that he could hear
Someone dear to call him "dad",
Privilege he never had...

Let dos and don'ts prevail
Where man cannot decide,
Remove the uncertainty veil
And put instincts aside

And build a concrete fence
Between all right and wrong
For the sake of social rules and hence
For the sake of pitiful us all.

And let us grow less human,
Robotically designed,
With obvious solutions,
Uncertainties consigned...

Show me the spine of morality
And give me a choice to make
For who am I, if not a gambler
Playing on fine ethics edge?

We are,
Intangible
And,
Isolate.

They say we live like pigs.
Weaker, and more dangerous though
A risk to our own young.
I am rotting with the stench of
The stimga today.
The TV tells, how others see me
Sitcom fortune tellers
Predicting my behavior
If I ever attempted to achieve life again
More than movies online and microwave meals
Is this me? Living up to my label.
Or is the label now the only one that fits me.
Bipolar.
Crazy.
Lunitic
I am haunted by history and am just trying to be human
And survive

Love is a transforming plant.

you can water it just enough and give it warmth and sunshine,
so it can grow and flourish and give fruits.

you can water it too much or give it too much heat and it will suffocate.

you can water it too little and it will grow spikes.

you can give it too little sunshine and it will grow into a ****.

or you can just hate gardening and live without it.

closing claws
ripping off the flesh
of a shadow
saved in a corner
of a single
soul.

no room for an S.O.S.
in this glass jar
filled with despair
in hermetically
closed
words.

closed, closure, close,
such hilarious
list of words
suitable for both
love and
hate.

no reason available
in words or gestures
or thoughts or mimics,
but a single feeling,
a painful thirst
of freedom,

but this closing
fog
stealing
every breath
is closing
every exit,

like alcohol vapours
surrounded by flames,
imploding
violently
into
oblivion.

scared,
alone,
trappe­d,
wrapped
in a single
point.