Some days,
I feel like I’m the only one left here,
a sound of anxiety is too clear,
whispering in my ear,
floating softly in rays,
helplessly dreary days,
perfectly lost in trance,
ferocious beasts collide to dance,
escape no chance
obsolescence,
broken pieces of me reminiscence.


Some days,
sadness is magically beckoning,
voluntarily pursuing,
constantly succeeding,
dust particles sparkling
like tiny specs of glitter
galaxies of terrors shiver,
storms ignite with chaos
insecurities wondrous
creating puzzle
in a muzzle.

Some days,
oh most of the days
are falling apart
and I can’t help it,
the habit
of endlessly dwelling
the warmth
of whiffing my soul.

-**d.t

On her bed, she lay so still,
Listening to the singing,
Of the whippoorwill
I took her hand,
Put it in mine
Combed her dark hair,
So long and fine
Then I dried,
Deaths sweat, from her brow
Knowing she didn't have,
Too much longer now
She opened her eyes,
Gave me a smile
She said,"Dear friend,
I'll see you,
In a little while."
The tears in my eyes,
Oh, how they stung
And on, and on,
The whippoorwill sung.....

There's a woman, in the basement, still
Her screams, they wake me at night
She eternally beats on the walls
Yet, no freedom, none in her sight
33 days, kept in the damp,
The dark
Those 33 days of night,
Have forever left their mark
Her finger nails gone,
From scratching at concrete
I hear her praying
To the creator, she wishes to meet
Her voice loud, though hoarse and cracked
Ringing forever in my ears
And somehow, I know I'll hear her screams
Every night and day, All the rest of my years

We're passing
Passing through the long narrow roads
Together
Like a skirt with odorless tulips
On a bike
You are pedaling
My chin closed to your shoulders
I want to yell in your ear
I don't like my childhood
But you
The marry go round 's still
rounding in your eyes
Like the memory of the grilled maize
Hot and sweet
I turn
my back leaning on yours
Looking at the sky
The sun loosing its light on each tree one by one
And I ask :
The grandma hasn't told any
stories for a long time, has she ?
-no answer heard-
And you keep on pedaling
And I
Always suffering from the pain of ******
Send my regards to the crows
and tell them that the scarecrows
are not alone they just play roles
My doll has been sleeping since
the last time I heard my voice
-Lullabies matched with her dancing-
Say more
I'm happy
cos I put my head on the pillow
smelling my odor at night
-I'm happy-



می گذریم
با هم می گذریم
از جاده هایی باریک و بلند
چون دامنی که نقش لاله های بی عطر و بو را دارد
بر چرخی نشسته ایم
تو پا می زدی
چانه ام به شانه هایت نزدیک است
می خواهم در گوشت فریاد بزنم
کودکی هایم را دوست ندارم
ولی تو
هنوز در چشمانت
چرخ و فلک می چرخد
چون خاطره ی بلال ها
...داغ و شیرین
برمی گردم
در حالی که پشتم به تو تکیه داده است
به آسمان نگاه می کنم
خورشید
تک به تک
از درختان جا می افتد
)) : و سؤال می کنم
مدتیست که دیگر مادربزرگ قصه نمی گوید !!؟
هان !؟
-پاسخی نشنیدم-
تو به راهت ادامه می دهی و
من
همیشه از درد پریود رنج می بردم
از قول من
به کلاغان سلام برسان
و به آن ها بگو
مترسک ها تنها نیستند
خوب نقش بازی می کنند
از آخرین باری که صدایم را شنیدم
عروسکم به خواب می رفت
-لالایی هایی که با رقصیدنش کوک شده بود-
و باز هم بگو
خوشحالم
وقتی شب ها موقع خواب
سرم را روی بالشتی می گذارم
که بوی مرا می دهد
-خوشحالم-

Blatant,
Hold your cigarette upside down,
Blow the smoke out of your ears,
Wash the dirt out of the ground.

Wear your black bandana backwards,
Wear your heart upon your sleeve,
Keep your back straight at the table,
Before you're forced to leave.

Keep a knife in your knuckles,
Pressing intensely against your skin,
Keep your mind set on finding what you'll never find again,
Keep your head above the water,
Keep your eyes out of the ash,
Keep your frown as permanent as ever,
Keep on wearing this your mask.

Permission from no one to do nothing more than you do,
To  follow this path of nothingness that you so willingly would choose.

Aspirations have no meaning to you,
This world is not your lover,
You do not want a piece of it,
You'll just take your hibernative cover.

See a room filled with smoke,
Ash overseas the ground,
Dirt underneath your fingernails,
This dark fate that you have found.

You write poems to no one about nothing and keep candle light at bay,
Telling yourself that this is your life and that you're happy just this way.

Blackened under eyes  from a definitive lack of sleep,
But irises so bright that will never be defeat.

I love you my woeful lover,
Please look after yourself,
These cigarettes will **** you,
Before you **** yourself.

This is only our second encounter,
but yet here we are,

entranced in conversation,
shutting down the bar.

Perhaps I'll fall too quickly,
all rationale forgotten.

Ignoring all the warning signs
to "proceed with caution."

But if hanging on your every word
is something I'm meant to resist,

I think I'll just continue my journey
into this beautiful descent.

I reckon google maps is the soulmate of the nostalgic,
The sentimental,longing for what was,
Searching for yesterday like a starving dog.
Sometimes ,more often than not,
I find myself looking out the window of a younger me.

And who are we,if not passing strangers on a foreign soil?

I believe google maps is the aplication for the past.
We are the effect of the places we roamed.
I find myself in a darkened room,
Yet still,everything that brought me here
Are the houses I slept in,
The roads I took,literally and figurately,
And the trees I rested under.

idea slung rivulet
writ small down the back
of esophagus wall

the city never spits
it wants it gloms onto

lil iflings
spilling

di v is  ion

we come n go
streety needy
iwantubyeee