One last time

Do not love me

For love has consequences that you may not like

Do not love me

If your love is hesitant

If your love is afraid

Afraid to be buried under a wintry snow

Or scorched by the summer

You say you love me

Does the love disappear when everything is gone?

You say you love me

As much as the song bird that loves the song

And the music that the wind carries in its soul

Would you love the music if the wind swept off everything else?

Do you love like the cicada

Which cries for its mate with crimson eyes?

And in the process

Burns itself out with passion

You ask me why I am this way

And in vain I try to conjure

A million words to explain

That which is so simple

But I will try one last time.

Do you know what it is to love?

What it is to love with burning passion?

Do you know what it is to carry the flame?

Do you know what it is like

When there is no one else to share the fire?

Do you know what it’s like

To keep the flame all to yourself

Till there is no choice

But to burn yourself out?

Snowblind

I've waited enough for the winter of your eyes

to cajole me into a white slumber

that would not melt away

you know I've waited,and abated

the urge to spiral

downward into the whirlwind of your toxic promises

I've let the moments slip through my fingers

dissolve in the rain and trickle down

the alleys of those winter eyes

in which I am forever lost

so that they freeze for eternity

drop by drop,

till they form a curtain of snow

to cover the trees of those promises

so that i am blinded by the snow

and not see that the trees had shed

all the leaves of hope

long ago

when your eyes first met me

walk with me

sweet child of the forest

angel of the night

walk with me

on streets of diabolical dreams

forget all the promises

the vulgar melodrama

when the stage is empty

and the curtains are down

we will pick up the broken violin

and weave our incandescent future

out of a forgotten tune

LOOKING FOR BLOOD

listen to the chants of mirrors

ere the drop of blood shatters it

blood that bites the edge of the glass

blood that cuts the edge of a shard

blood that flows through the veins of desire

blood that flares up in your fire

blood that wets your dreams at night

blood that shivers on the glean of a knife

blood that bleeds your eyes at dawn

blood that splashes your soul at dusk

blood that you sip when you're making love

blood that you scratch lost in mire

blood that you scar ripping the skin

blood that dissolves the fire of desire

blood that trickles down your lonely walls

blood that you smell sitting in your lonely hall

blood that streaks across the skies

blood that clouds the moon with red

blood that glints in the eye of the bride

blood that shimmers when you are half past dead

blood that tries to warm the heart

the old, cold heart, bereft

of warmth since the ages of Thoth

blood that stains the winter's snow

trail of blood that follows you home

Unborn letter

All the unwritten letters in my head

Leave my heart cold.

Wish i could make a bonfire out of them;

Maybe that will give some warmth.

I don't know why I don't write them.

Maybe because I fear;

Fear that you will not care

To read between the lines.

Or maybe i fear;

Fear that you are too busy

To savour a little bit of idleness.

What good will it be?

It won't give you usefulness,

nor function, nor fruition.

But i still hope

That oneday i will write them.

I still hope;

Hope like an incessant stream,

Almost trickling,

But never quite drying out.

I still hope that maybe,

Against the current,

It will just somhow manage

To reach the void in your heart;

Which, i hope, is still there.

That maybe you will still

Allow a teardrop of tenderness

To fall from the page

Onto your soul.

Madness

Let us be madmen,
Because sanity sells its flesh on the streets.

Let us be mad,
Because reason usurps even the last morsel
From the orphans' mouth,
To drape its gilded palaces
With the glitter of inanimate metals.

Let us be mad
And talk to the walls at night,
Because the ears of sanity,
Hear only the jingle of coins
And the applause of the herd.

Let us be mad
And ravage through the sands of time
To discover a forgotten tune,
Because reason will only throw the sand
Into the eyes of those
Who dare to peep into its soul.

Let us be mad,
But let us not forget to pin our hopes
Onto the walls of tomorrow,
As reason will only use the pins
To puncture those hearts
That still beat,
That still bleed.

Dusk

Flakes of evening grey
Float into my dusty room
And, for a shallow while
Make it their home.
Till the emaciated sun
Breathes its last,
Having found peace,
At last.

And for this lonely while
Nothing suffices,
Not words,
Nor music,
Nor images.
Only me
And, this surreal dusk
Sit lonely,
For a while.