all the moment of collapse
flourishes in, and out
what borrow your mind is not mine
and I do belong
everything is poor inside of me
I can not tell, I can not say
unknown languages of any dream
I can not write a story exist
he holds a long breath of years
endless bow, down and out
what make sense is to begin
and I, only do.
-
If words appear as the inside in no
language, how I can write a thing?
Identity is subconsciously building up
walls on the way, prisoning the anarchy secretly.
I break, and I break another
and I always like to leave, go
somewhere.
When on the way in bus
time completely stops for living
You are not somewhere, not where you
left
not where you are going at
non existence for all the rest and
being just you
my funny favorite,
valentine's ege
nor about the earth surface
I don't care for your helpless life
issues
I don't care for making life issues,
my success, is nor in the day.
stupidly speaking, practicing english in telling about you.
stupidly speaking, practicing english in telling about you.
I practiced years of turkish to have a
rich telling, now what? Nothing in any language. I am poor as google
translate
My senses are growing one way and
shrinking another, forgotten skills of my hands, like if I can not
remember clearly how I was playing before 8; but I remember that I
was always hearing the same sounds in my ear, is that so true?
