قلبم را از سینه کندم

و به پای کبوتری گره زدم

پر زد به سوی تو

باز که گشت،

چیزی به پایش نبود

کار تمام شد

All but Martyrs to the Almighty

درد من از سهم من،
سهم من از درد من.

در قفس خویش تن،

از برِ محبوب من.

 

IlLUSIONS

An alien ship drifts silently toward Earth. Inside, two figures lie in hibernation, their bodies still but their minds alive, linked by telepathic exchange.

One is the captain — a being who can sense and process the endless streams of electromagnetic waves around every celestial body they pass. The other is his son, still learning, still stretching his mind under his father’s guidance.

As Earth comes into view, the son asks:

"Father, what is it the people of this planet yearn for so deeply?"

"Love."

"And the other things they chase?"

"Shadows and dust, my son."

Writing is Therapy!

when you want to fuck her to get even with her cunt side... correction! You want to fucking pimp her and pee on her pretty cunt face while she's getting fucked in the ass then have her lick it from your toes... motherfucker you're a cunt and I'm becoming a vengeful dick for staying around your stupid cunt for too long!

The wrongness of Kundera's philosophy!

The time has come

To migrate from this place to another

From the place of existing to the place of being

This lightness of being

To give away the sweetness of the juice of that fruit,

Growing on top of that tree at the corner of that hill

By the river in the field of wheat,

And go backwards to the sound and the noise

To the fury of the city

To the pollution and the collisions of the traffic

And tall dark haired skinny girls

In their fancy boots

To makes a routine out of the unbearable

So that it’s no more…

Elegy (Persistent Momentary Lapse of Things)

 

Can’t you see baby,

That it’s not working?

All the sincerity,

All this time,

And you break my heart,

At least once every night…

 

Don’t you feel it baby?

That it’s not there?

Even though I look in your erratically colored eyes,

And see nothing but your want,

with all of your repulsion,

…

 

Can u feel me seeing it baby?

That it’s not us we’re chasing?

That it’s the way things are,

In this fucking choreography of attitudes,

And the persistent momentary lapse among them

 

It tears my heart,

At least once every night…

Perfect Model

I wish life was merely the embodiment of the intersection of pretty moments with absolutely no interceptions in between.
You’re in the middle of one snapshot of it, and not knowing what happened, right in the middle of the next.
That way I would do the rightest thing right now and wouldn’t worry about the rest.
No time to regret it if I was wrong.

a perfect model…