What if I had words too; If there was a sentence, a thought that belonged to me. If at least one of the millions of words spoken for thousands of years would engulf me.
Planet of stolen dreams.
Ah, I am hidden in the dim light of the night that sometimes sleeps and my words are hidden in my heart like a lotus creeping in a bottomless well.
Sunset.
Solstice.
He is the god of the stars and patched sky that will escape from the night, I am a profligate wind on the walls of the city, whose secrets have succumbed to the people and their storms.
I am a defeat since yesterday.
I went down this road with the unscrupulous mobilization of delusions and my burden.
I am a candidate to be the headman of the villages where the aching heart gave birth to nine and was expelled from the door, and I will give a memorandum between my two lips soon.
The railing of the dreads.
And as the horses of stomp, the earth crumbles, maybe love crumbles…
Particles and stardust falling from the sky.
I followed the rhythm of the downpour tonight and escaped from chaos-laden riddles. My meaning and pseudonym and the talismanic touch of love are love, I don't like the love-blind people, I am a crying cloud on the boulevard of ragged smiles, maybe I am a rebellious smoke from the city ferry.
I was a cheap romance. No, even bad literature had truth. I was not; I was in a place where I couldn't even say I didn't exist.
The wind is suddenly in my heart.
The ache in my heart.
Sadness and bald men, whose faces are so familiar, filled the street of dead dreams.
Gloomy murmurs.
The whispers are over and the outright rebellions rise in the steam of the night.
If it's a guest, the poem that knocks on my door is welcome.
A bedtime story is a candidate to be a novel.
I can't add anything to you
Look, I missed it again, I missed it
Downfalls began in the depths of my soul,
My soul is in longing for you again
Don't look at me so confused
How can I get tired of missing you?
I never get bored.
You are too far from me,
What does it matter?
You are in my heart, you are my heart.
Whether you're far away or next to me,
no matter what i miss you,
I will never stop loving you.
Is it okay if I whisper the absence of you into the silence?
If I tell you without informing anyone,
How I feel for you if no one but me knows.
Love not me, not my shadow, but my dreams.
Okay, don't miss me, don't want, don't feel.
Don't be afraid, I'm always with you
But I'm not yours.
I can't be, I don't deserve it.
Remember that dreaming is the hardest.
Believe me, it is the hardest to miss you in your absence,
to be with you, to touch,
To smell your skin.
I stopped.
Look, I dreamed again.
So many stories that I have compiled from aging miracles, the hood of the sky, the broken heart, the saddlebags forgotten on its bench, and here I am after a single word.
Glittering images in the fountains.
The figure of the sky where I set up the tent.
Maybe the last point I will reach by climbing the steps.
I closed my ears to the cry of a wind and put the marks left behind from the words that were cold inside me, and I made a sparkling fairy tale earring in the universe where love moves.
Since there was once and there was not.
The one who forgets that I exist, like the light that leaks from the pages I weave with my nothingness, is a prisoner of a dream in the metal fatigue of the sphere inside me, and the work of a dream while I wandered throughout the night, actually hidden in my one-man hut, which I imitated like a dervish.
