You are not a towel
designed to dry out my evening tears.

You are not some crazy lover
waiting for my words to be over.

You are not an internet joke
but you are serious butthurt!

You are not a fancy movie hall seat,
I don't remember the pictures I see.

My dear, you are not just a PILLOW,
 Can't take it when someone else sleeps with you!

His father left today only to return as a Piscean.

You are two souls living in one body.

Monday is a weepy morning,
Tuesday is weaning well
Wednesday is when I crawl to walk
Thursday, I stand on my spine
Friday, I think I am in love
Saturday, my love, I learn how to love.

Women get married.
Men live happily ever after.

The ink is your tears...
And I gave birth to a million verses

I tell my nightmares to go to sleep.
I tell my breath to stay some longer.
I tell tomorrow to bark at yesterday.
I tell sins to forgive what's left of me.
I tell lies to give truth some warm company.

I tell me a lot to tell a lot little.

All eyes are on you!
You know who you are.
Don't let anyone tell it for you.

Then again, you are just a dress.
But then again,
you have be worn out before even being worn!

If we make our monsters live all by themselves,
they'll find a way to be under our skin again.

After all our monsters
are all ours to feed.

The first poet of 10000 B.C.
couldn't make beauty with blood.
And the first poem appeared on shaky lips...
Phew! Gladly not on the darkest of walls.

Hundreds of words ago,
I made art.

Hundreds of art ago,
I made you up.

In colours, I hung you with a nail.
In words, I sprang you to life.

But now you look better in my erased sentences
And my now looks even better than ago.

Let's ban poetry because it
Heals wounds without prescription,
Break borders without permission,
Adds beauty without makeup,
With words all so made up!

My dreams are so half-baked,
Somebody put a timer on them
And serve them hot to me.

Poems are written
To be crumpled
To be torn
Into the galaxies of waste
Poets are born
To be in wrinkle of tears
Into the memories of nothingness

Sometimes writing about it is the hardest part.

I am so hungry

I think
my
LARGE intestine is eating up my small intestine!

You are a thunder hiding under a spark...

I hide you where no one can see...