Will you bother to care For the game - In which You chase Your lover Till she is being caught - To control The fate of you And your lover, To exist within It and let it Never end, Having her In front of your Eyes, forever Smiling, breathing ; Or just catch Hold of her, In your arms, On your lips And die along With the game, forever?
A man Is pleased By the adorations Tied on poems By the mirror Every single morning Under the Sun of blushes -
The shadow Sleeping behind him Tries to lift Itself to look In the mirror, Incessantly struggles And fails, Embedded under The man’s name And brick -
It did succeed To look into the mirror One night When he was asleep, Yearning for poems And tongues to Recite hymns Of praise, But under the skies Of Dark The Moon Slipping under The mountains With the Sun to make love And in the morning He is up again To brim with blushes - How can one at all Blame the mirror In this Sea of Biasness?
If I switch beds every night, Will I not revert to the Same fire? - The one that burns my eyes And the one I’m not proud Of owning - It is drizzling midst the fire And I’m out of pillow covers; Can I stitch them out of curtains? Does the fabric is all that matters? - I wish for the day it wouldn’t rain The Sun will gulp me up, How strong and fierce is the Sun Under the reign of ruthless downpour? It all feels like an unheard tune With just a known notion that I play it Every time I go for a bath, What’s so monotonous about habits? And, how many times am I bathing? - It feels all wrong, all forced, all caught up - It’s the overlaps of blues And I need new pillow covers With Suns packed inside - I needn’t switch beds, maybe, rather, Just shift mine in the bathroom, But the bed is just too heavy to lift, And my eyes, too sore.
The muscles Of my belly squirm - A voice that owns Realms in it Makes the lanterns Within it glow - I begin to Understand from Then on How my belly Feels under the Touch of emptiness Wanting to be filled upon And how brimmed bellies Stand in the line To be emptied again A cycle governed Merely by a voice That knows every muscle Of my belly And owns tankers - The roughest disasters Happen in my belly Every time the governor Pays a visit - I foresight even worse When there’ll be Fingers, eyes and lips Harrowing my abdomen, When my clouds will Rattle under the Rains of Touch - It will be a catastrophe Demolishing every Ability to escape The torment And just oceans Will be in sight.
Why is it that he always bleeds As the night descends? There are places he yearns to be, But he ends up with his words On his desolate fingers Every single time the moon blooms, He bleeds into inebriation, The storms pay reverence to his poetry, And so do beggars on their plates, And mothers in their dreams.
They’ll take you to the clouds, his words, In dark corners and empty corridors, In fires and in the bloodiest woods - Even if it is a trance, the beauty in intoxication, You must allow yourself to drown In his words and fly in his seasons, You must brew up an imagination Without the fear of being questioned, It all is in the words, and those oceans, But you must dare to claim, firstly.
With all the scents that fill up the Smoke in the room, he bleeds, All night, under the temple of The Moon, He attempts to reach the next daylight, And somehow along the way, The scarlet blood of his bleeds In which he found hope, To make it to the next day, Hurts him now, alike a wound - How can something that delivers Hope into candles to keep flaming hurt?
He tries hard to escape words, The parts of poetry that heals seagulls Now reside in the air, hanging - He needs something more, something concrete, But its too vague in the head to Find the tune to start with, It’s too empty a place - Films, stars, prayers, fireworks? He endeavours every of these domains, Every night he begins to drift to bleeding And hunt out no solace, no solitude in any - He beholds an image from the future, A blurry portrait of a heavy meal to consume, A war to fight, a lot to endure, a lot to come, But for now, it hurts, just a little too much, When it bleeds, But nevertheless, it does happen, Every single night, with every single drink.