Sons of *******
were born
with hearts of stone,
cherishing this stone
all their life.
Children of
sons of *******
were born
with hearts of grenade,
in order to
blow to pieces
everything,
and to leave as a message for their descendants —
entrails
(still smoking entrails)
of sons of *******.

I don't feel at home where I am,
or where I spend time; only where,
beyond counting, there's freedom and calm,
that is, waves, that is, space where, when there,
you consist of pure freedom, which, seen,
turns that Gorgon, the crowd, to stone,
to pebbles  and sand . . . where life's mean-
ing lies buried, that never let one
come  within cannon shot yet.
From cloud-covered  wells untold
pour color and light, a fete
of cupids and Ledas in gold.
That is, silk and honey and sheen.
That is, boon and quiver and call.
That is, all that lives to be free,
needing no words at all.

You curled up on my bed
and watched me work.
You listened to my queries
and helped me discover new possibilities.

When things got tough or boring
you provided comfort and companionship.
And when I pushed you away,
you came right back.
When I needed someone
You were there to comfort me.
You were there to help me

And when you needed protection from monsters
I protected you.
Because you always protected me.
Because I feed you.

Saw it all,
One last time...
Slowly, pressed "DELETE"
Swore to myself,
This mistake shall not repeat.

But I know, you know
I was bluffing.

It happened again.
I saw it all one more time,
One last time.
But this time, my hands don't tremble
I press not slowly, but swiftly "DELETE"
And I know, for sure,
It won't repeat.

don't beg for help
on how to get back up
from the feet
that stood on your legs
and convinced you
you couldn't walk
in the first place