Flawless..

Flawless; is it us?

Born unexpectedly

A total truthful sphere

Autumn directs you as to,

When to leave and when to mate

Damn it, cattle do; getting sick of it

Live on a virtue

Nonrefundable virginity

Authenticity dims sunshine

A faulty birth; self-nurtured; tortured

Bleeding veins, toothless smile

Certainly, a fading skeleton

Lovely melting away;

By ugly memories of sheltered youth

Half dead, grey-haired; shame on you.

Undeniably, she hates you

Audacious; eternally

A creep in late fifties; blind in few years

She just cannot empower your balance days

Terrible alteration looms just when your stinky ego scores.

definition of ”trash”

expand on non prediction

state of anxiety, silence

excluded manhood knew the way

end of your destination, a necessity;

move to her motivation

does it work, move it

pathway of command

feel the overlap, freely

agree, the definition

distribution on corn field

peel a grape, arguable

hate me, non refundable

trash wasted, treated nicely

terrible fun, any antidote?

collect your trash; once you recognize it;

unbelievable good news, by definition.

meet the dead..

In 2491, on the top of Everest, sat one of Aresteo’s best friends who used to spend his weekends on the pool. The gut was a Yoga teacher on his free time after work. Despite the long working hours in the mine field, he used to be eager calling his girlfriend every thirty minutes; that pissed off his boss.

She felt bad about that and decided to ask her sister how to get rid of him. Well, this must be done during our annual carnival were no one can recognize the gun shots. And so was it; they are all dead by now.

Anybody could admire such fiction called’’ Meet the dead’’?; A handful out there.

who cares?

Steel the moment, read his mind and turn away,

He will still be there when you return,

Dare to forget good old days and dip into your fantasy at sunset,

Morning will finally arrive, thus late,

Leave no trace of pleasure, find a way out,

The room is as cold as you have known it,

After all, you are still apart,

Leave him, join me; a new venture,

A new tide of harmony, I will always feel you,

I will always be there, I will always be…well;

Who cares?

Just leave….now.

..a necessity..

Is it an absolute necessity to know who you essentially are or even what have you been so far? Conscious to be or not to be? Who do you really want to be; do you choose skin color, name; non-I suppose? Till the moment your soul starts to rise- the search continues; endlessly; still who do you think you are? A musician, a carpenter or rarely a tennis champion; Who cares? Do you care? Never mind, it has never been any of your business; aliens know it better; they sculpt your identity, soulmate, eventually your cemetery. Will that get you angry in a moment? Are you solid worthy; one day she will be your presence.

Where radical events pull you into stinky unexpected presence, a passenger; is that you? Are you clearly defined? Can you be felt, smelled, or even once be loved in every exclusionary perspective as you escape a forest of unfriendly animals. A habitat in the middle of nowhere. Liberty seems a primarily faded illusion. Lay in peace as long as being overwhelmed by uncertainty rather unpredictable rigid eroded iron; a promise to a mysteriously spoiled necessity is largely what it is. Is it? Still anxiously doubtful.

image from :https://www.artpal.com/luv2h8m3xo

Defeated

One day, you will return

A return of sorrow

Cornered in no place

Lost on a horizon

Baby love taken

Heart beats stand still

Is that enough

No address

No name

I am your hammer

Cool down

Broken hearted

Dry veins, no

Jealousy coffins my soul

slide beyond fears

Locked haunted memories

Never heals new comer

Life turned dim

Why now?

I am done, un done

Ages ago, we knew it

Uncomfortable place;

Lonely, clod promises

Look at me

Glance to mourn

your defeated hero.

Game Of Love

I can’t play this game anymore
A game of sorrow

Played by some one, once,
I can’t stay any longer, hereafter,
I don’t want to drift apart
Slide to a start
My soul has scars
any one can see, feel it across lungs
waiting endlessly
deeply scarred,

by darkened breath

Dreams never came true
I can’t play this game anymore
A game of love-
Played and never won,once,

I might one day; again once..

beyond repair..

A frugal life is all what he offered. Kindness was a rare corner stone of the relationship. His sluggish emotions pulled down the woman in her.  Night falls, curtains waved the day goodbye. Her nails grew penetration her soft rosy skin; finger bleeds without pain. Memories retrieved of summer hiking. Outgoing was painless as she was only twenty-three years younger than him. Face down walking by her school that she abandoned for luxury; still he insists to walk her by every semester, just to fulfill his ego possessing a Barbie; well it might be worth it.  As time flew, embedded determination shaped midnight’s reactions, she whispers: honey, it is just about time to turn on the fireplace that Dad destroyed when Mum left forever without a notice leaving it beyond repair. However, it still pools hot tears on his white beard. Thoughts drifting off sharpening ugly memories of stylish life.