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Like a dancer—
her dress twirling...
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The little squares of Tehran Pars (*
repeated themselves...
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The ground can quake the skies can cry
Mountains may fall rivers run dry...
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You tell me that I still have time
I can sleep in for a while...
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You tell me that I still have time
I can sleep in for a while...
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This makes no sense at all, just a copy paste...
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Looking out of the window of my mind,
I see what is done...
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Life’s a series of crossroads!
Foot of the mountain stuff until my end...
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My dreams prick like a needle in the groin.
Phallus! now dangles like the ash on a spent...
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Looking were the shadows fall,
Seeing the proof that I exist...
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There are these buried questions within!
The sub concision has its’s own reality...
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Finding my path in my twilight zone.
Where light and darkness cohabitate...