A poem
The cheeks of the past few years have shriveled
Became the color called red
Almost surprisingly swollen
White and black are hundreds of colors
The color of memories
The color of the old clothes
Have you seen a white turn into black?
Or have you seen the opposite?
Your eyes have deceived you if it’s a Yes
There is only one way of defining colors
Which is the shade of gray
A poem
A dream wakes up
And the miserable neighborhoods covered fell asleep
Eternal sleep accompanied by loud snoring
In the womb of misery
Under children's dirty fingernails
In every grain of sand attached to their feet
And accompanied by warm singing
The miserliness of life accompanies them
There, right there, the forbidden finds a refuge
The shelter that receives a matter
It kills a soul
And wet the wretched handkerchiefs
A poem
The last time we met
we kissed
Love has hands
Long and strong ones
They grabbed my neck
Found their way for my vocal cords
And tore them into pieces
Love has hands
And big round eyes
Every time it looks at me
My skin burns
And my eyes turn into ash
The last time we met
You probably kissed the ash
