The price of being a sheep is BOREDOM, the price of being a wolf is LONELINESS. Choose one or the other with great care

I might be a wolf... a hungry one, and an injured one.. a being that does not know when it transformed into its role... and a bad one because he enjoys watching the emptiness of a sheep-like life ... like a condolence for all the unnecessary pains he is drinking on... while secretly suffering from his own sheepness deep inside

Or I might be a sheep... bored to death by the extreme idiocy of a happy routine that keeps alive... indifferent to everyone... which makes everyone so small and unimportant... not knowing his destined death... not knowing why being protected from wolves... not knowing the "knowing"... life is the taste of grass... and noting else matters!
 
Or perhaps none... not a wolf nor a sheep... just a numb frame that carries a picture... of both.. and it itself is yet none..

The tunnel...or simple instructions on how to get back to the end

The light at the end of the tunnel is sometimes just another train coming straight to you... to crush your face, your thirst, your unprotected hope... it comes to end the stubborn patience of an old man waiting for his freedom, his heroic death...

And there comes a moment when the truth lands humbly on your smashed shoulders : "does not it really matter anymore?"...

Should you die in the darkness of a circular tunnel there it is your true savior... screaming smoky light crawling out of his cave... to devour the darkness, the "You"...

You do not have to go to the end... the end always finds you..
You do not take it to the end... it comes to the end itself

باز باران

باز باران

باز او که چشمش چیزی برای آب کردن ندارد

باز او که یا بی چیز است یا بی همه چیز

    

باز باران

باز درد ترکهای پوست گونه ام
باز انتخاب غلط در انتخاب نرم کننده باران

بابا نیامد؟

هه!...بابا که دوا ندارد!
پس استعمال «همین است که هست» روزی ۳ بار قبل از باران و ۳ بار بعد و ۳ بار قبل و بعد هر بار و  هر بار ۳ بار
تا این شعر لعنتی بالاخره یکجا تمام شود...

سبکی غیر قابل تحمل هستی

او در همان یک روز آشتی کرد و خندید و سبک شد، لذت برد و سرشار شد و بخشید، عاشق شد و عبور کرد و تمام شد 

i broke your doll,
it was cross eyed, that's all,
i only wanted it to help it see straight...
but like a half broken moon,
sooner than soon,
i was up on your wall,
smaller than small,
in a half painted frame,
the wood wouldn't stain,
and i hope that reminds you
of the part you couldn't change in me...

if you push me i'll fall,
if you pull me i'll drown,
if you're gonna be nailin me down
i won't rise again

i scratched your car,
where the bird left a stain,
but i only wanted to help you see straight...
but like a half broken moon,
sooner than soon,
i was up on your wall,
smaller than small,
in a half painted frame,
where the wood wouldn't stain,
and I hope that reminds you
of the part you couldn't change in me...

if you push me i'll fall,
if you pull me i'll drown,
if you're gonna be nailin me down
i won't rise again...
i won't rise again...

i'm not god, i'm not god...
i love you but i'm not god...