In war you plowed
the love, synchronising the fall
and rise of rare victory.

Between us, a river
flows of marigolds. But blood spreads.
Can we find the solution of darkness?

Waiting for the next wave.
The drums are coming near. I am
asking about god, not you.

Moon hangs from
your eyes in black dreams.
Wolves run into the woods.

The human touch was
waning. I will follow the arc of
pain. Man becomes fish.

After the drill I ask to
dismantle all man made palaces.
It is time to worship rocks.

Now my needs are few.
I think in my mother tongue, that I will
give my broken body a torn note.

In my loneliness I call truth.
Where lies the shrine of an immortal?
After all, death was taking revenge.

On white paper I want
to write the history of demolition of the truth,
so that the sun behaves like a slave.

I will die with dignity.
Beauty, you cut me crisply. I
stand on the bank. Shiner swims.

Pinned to flowers like
butterflies for colorful unearthing, when
you are never too old to ****.

I was hit in the garden.
My roses bleed. The moon, my
lover, hesitates to open wounds.

The Zen wants to confront
my invisible presence, breaking my
self-restraint. I meet my death daily.

Let not existential fear
tear your confidence. After all the
god sleeps in every house.

What do I want to see?
Muffled cry seeks the body of pain
with immense inner rapture.

You make me lighten.
I am going back to the woods.
Life has beaten me in absence.

My eyes belonged to you.
Night descends slowly to check
my life in my poems.

An accident of the lips.
I salute the crystals of no love.
At last I breathe poison.

Too personal. Rose
garden. Caged in the eyes of atrocity.
If I have a question, you have an answer.

Between wilting and a
kiss, I will choose death. You become
a bit of a sleeping philosopher.

Words will not ****.
A dream becomes a medusa. You
can start reading on the wall.