revering what shouldn’t be revered

“It was never my fault.”
“They say it’s depression.”
“If you believe in it, everything works. Even witchcraft.”

to dance with the dead

“Hi there!
want a memory from Kosovo?”

I got plenty…
I got rivers flowing as if flowing inside
mountains high enough to reach the skies
I got clouds parting when viewed by me
and thoughts making me what I plan to be

but yes,
do give me one more.

I was always out of tune

words are pointless
touch is pointless,
yet he speaks
yet he touches
yet he gives meaning where meaning lacks.

all fleeting

moon stretched its hands
to revere my being
or as a call for departure,
mine own.

and I hear calls
calling me to listen the cave’s call
for time is delayed before it reaches here.

liars

the poet lies.
one side of the painting written,
the other hidden.

but so do the skies.
the painter.

so do I.

to the lame ones

boredom feels the same when it stays
it feels the same even after it goes.
our own lack of perspective, empathy, and perception
leaves us naked;
loneliness can’t be felt when one’s alone.

fade

your voice shivers when you say words you’re uncertain of–
certain that only in empty caves in other’s heads they reach
you stop the gears in your head,
in a state of false peace
thinking:
“Ah, finally I can be understood,
this is it!”