Welcomed with open arms,

Like loved ones, returning

After a long stay away

Spring, rushes through

Every open window

To caress, to kiss



The trials, hardships

Of winter, forgotten

The humidity, misery

Of summer, a myth



The past, the future

Irrevocable



Our wrongdoings, crimes

Moments of ecstasy, pleasure

Moments of tears, screams

Challenges encountered, overcome

Fits of depression, flirtation with the ultimate end



All blended into one…

Then is the future,

The past, yonder



Yet, now, is now

The whole morning consisted
Of examining sketches, of curves
Of soft flesh, of exposed *******
Contorted bodies, figures
Now, long since dead
Captured by the stroke
Of some artist with a fetish

You know, eroticism can taint one’s mind
Distort one’s thoughts, drive one mad?

Or at least, that’s the joke

You *******, you go blind
Your palms go hairy

As a child I heard that joke
Took it so seriously, religiously
That every time I saw a blind person
I thought they deserved it

Like Odyssey, like Swiss mercenaries

Men resort to pulling their hair, grinding

Their teeth, and at times, even weeping



Reciting tales, of a place, so foreign

In memory, yet so close at heart



Death by nostalgia, doctors once wrote

A heart may break, after one’s imagination

Becomes ransacked by thoughts

Of what was, before, in settings of familiarity

Last night, I dreamed
Of dozens and dozens
of red tulips, so many
that their petals
almost melted
Together, forming a
Raging river, red
Like the Nile, after
The first plague

Their bloom, and beauty
Evoked a frenzy, a wave
Of joy, that nearly drowned
Me

Like Medusa, my locks

Slither, and hiss, full

Of contemptuous

Snakes



Eagerly awaiting, the poor soul

Who gazes, with eyes of curiosity



To merely be turned to stone