The scattered words disturb the silence.
I prefer written pages with my left hand,
But it is trembling too much to write slowly
I miss him, his calm hands giving juicy oranges.

Shattered glass falls in slow motion,
Screams in the apartment,
Just the neighbor next door.
Another struggle,
Another soundless fracture
From the outside,
It’s not visible
What really hurts.

I have my refuge.
My piano and fingertips
Strike the rhythm,
Racing to speak in time.

What I want to repeat to myself
It isn’t lush or gentle,
Only barren,
like thoughts hung on a dry twig.
I trace figure eights,
Locked in a simple shape.
I stare and cannot fathom
The logic of a cold two plus two.
A thought-form circles
Around the blue planet.

Something pointing,
With its mercury finger.
It speaks in an unknown dialect
It shows the place to live
And huge fluorescent deserts.

The clouds’ minds —
A piece of earth
Soaked in different
Kinds of screams.

This is my blind chance.
I was born here.
In my mother’s paradise garden
Spinning in dawn’s glow.
Sometimes I just write
To ease personal and common guilt.

I hear tattooed numbers,
Granting citizenship of the lower caste.
And here,
The fresh scent of good life in the morning.
Blackbirds and thrushes fell silent.
My mother knows how to speak to them,
I know how to speak with trees.

Everything pulses,
On this small piece of earth,
Giving shelter to creatures
And stones no one throws.
I am here in a place I can happily bear,
Without cold speculation.

I can still dive into metaphors,
This is my greatest luxury,
The gift after so many disturbing lives.

It would be better to create a world
With only diverse breathing gardens.
I don’t need too much for living,
A naked soul is enough for me.

So, I am sitting in this landscape
And I peacefully hope
That my daughter will remember me tenderly
As I remember him, my father
And all who passed away.

The simplest thing is
The presence of every human being
It's like a celluloid film strip
Left behind the broken ribs
In the left ventricle of the heart
That never lies, never cheats me.

i’ve never been stronger
never been so weak
never felt such fire, blistering heat
my throat too clogged to speak
danger surrounds me
why don’t you surround me?
ground me with your anchoring arms
do not let me drift too far gone
ground me with your anchoring arms
guide me like the north star

What are the things you hold onto?

lavender petals
and oceans of breeze
I twist wind around my fingers
because it’s so free
I cling on to departures
& doorway exit chats
I grip table conversations
where napkins fall to the floor
and we unknowingly
covered in crumbs and crumbled
pastry, coffee and lavender tea
I hold onto
friendships and moments
and when the ground starts shifting
I still
like static wind
like irony

Bitcoin is my lifeboat
In the midst of raging waves
Specifically designed
As a tool that builds and saves

Bitcoin is my harbor
For the value that I earn
Secure and well protected
Once I take the time to learn

Bitcoin is my lighthouse
Marking where the dangers lie
And showing me the benefits
Of a firm and fixed supply

Bitcoin is my anchor
Giving focus to my days
Improving daily habits
In so many helpful ways

Bitcoin is my haven
As I rest in nightly sleep
And plan for many years
With the funds I safely keep

i think people don’t ever understand what i mean
he hands her his cigarette
as if in wordless consolation
she does not smoke
and she has never touched a cigarette until this moment
she meets his extended hand half way
she wraps her fingers around the instrument
as if it were a crutch
your cigarette anchors you
she tells him, but does not think he understands
he anchors her
anchor on rocky bay
the world around them is the wind
and she is the boat
mercilessly, harshly rocked
on the water's surface
until she is hitting the rocky shore
over and over
over and over
hurting
just to stay anchored to him
i wish you understood.

So real,
so real.
as I starve to death
to bathe in bliss
burrow to a skin,
a cataclysm.
unraveling a deep blue, calamitous love
holding on to an anchor (and only him could do that)
open it like a gift;
a suture unfurling my pain,
so real and so does he.

I'm just a lonely ship,
sailing in the sea.
When the wind hits me,
it sounds like a glee.

I once a sunken ship,
swallowed into a hellhole.
What an agony,
I went from hero to zero.

Like a bliss in a dark place,
you give your all.
Now I'm standing in grace,
having you as my anchor.