I loved the loneliness and the absence of You

I loved the loneliness and the absence of you!

In the steaming smoke of love,

I stack couplets in the city.

The season in the eyes

I fell into a deadly sleep.

Before every dawn

My soul was the forerunner of your beautiful heart

I was in love with every color

Because my colors were slaves of love.

I was a hasty wind bouncing off the roads.

What idea are you for, my dear self and you, my dear friends?

Is it a love? Of course, as I said myself with care…

I have years that have gone to the bottom, if I were a leaf full of sadness hidden in the level of sadness, but most of all, I am incredibly angry with everyone who made me feel loved through God and hypocrisy while shaping my loneliness. I decorate my leaves.

ignore the living dead as much as I don't remember, and each of them was my friend before, or rather friends, thousands of memories hidden in my memory, and believe me, I'm not exaggerating, I'm just walking back and forth on the bridge Bridge, which is built around the world, with the amazement of the fact that I've only just realized their nonsense selves.

I do not have a book published.

My fidgety poems

My skirts used to ring every time I call your name

I didn't even think about the lovelessness once

It's like a fatwa that should be kept hidden.

Silent lyrics of the season

Every whisper that rings in my ear

You've fallen for a high

patting my back every time I fall

Keeping vigil in the climates of thought

cruising the roads with my extraordinary breeze

Which bridge is mine, on the other hand, it is a one-way journey where I no longer pay the toll.

Go love.

It is incredibly problematic to stay there forever on watch.

That gigantic delusion in which I have updated the insane humanity and taken my expertise at the level of a lifetime and love, and somehow ignore everything and equate myself with nothingness.

My words are sometimes fictional and sometimes real, and in general, everything that happens is life itself.

Those who restricted my freedom weren't enough, a lifetime has now come, they are arguing about what I wrote.

My pen, sorry for anyone...

Even though I cannot convince anyone that it is an urge to write as I feel like now, when I was selective after the importance I gave to reading and education in a lifetime, my miserable friends who stayed in the yesterday whose skirts were ringing while I had already crowned those who put stones in my path out of nowhere, while I had already stoned the devil like stones. getting up…

Now I hear the groans of the sky!

In my world in seclusion,

I knit poems from singing birds.

What if I was a blind man

After stumbling upon you…

Blind spot of your life.

Every emotion I mix is ​​a separate sadness.

While I am content with my destiny, let me write as I wish.

While I was someone who deserved to be loved in the first place, let me love myself to the fullest from now on, don't I deserve this rain of love when I am full of hail?

I have no business with anyone who is employed.

I would never have a business with people who are not alike.

I am writing my rebellion today and while I was able to love with stability for a lifetime.

It's more than just mastering: should it be an aphorism or the magic of writing when you live and love to improvise?

My mother in the first place when her magic and raising me was, and again my dear mother who advised me to never stop writing at work.

A lifetime repeatedly while being excommunicated.