In the darkest corners of my quiet nights,I stare deep into my darkest thoughts.
A mixture of feelings I experience, maybe anger - happiness or sadness,
But confusion is the result, difficult it is any signs of clarity to have.
It's complicated like searching for a key ,fallen to the ground at night,
And how is it possible to find it , without any light but natural eyes?

Then it clicks into my mind , maybe I should look for light, I really need it,the key.
I text her ,she is my therapist, maybe a lover, or a friend.
But disappointments comes unexpectedly, mostly unwelcomed,
No replies, neither phone calls ,just the silence again,
But this time,it's a warfare,it's a wish to never have started looking for light.


Sometimes it's better what we have,than looking for something that will take it away,
Our own silence can be more peaceful,but we barely feel comfortable in it,
Other people's silence can be harmful,that we force them to fill the gap ,
Only to become their slaves,but what can we do with silence anyway?

Even here, miles from town,
Joshua trees raise twisted arms,
like dancers locked in a song’s last note.

I lower myself,
not as a hero in the final act
but as an old father grown tired,
disc inflamed in the back,
knuckles scraped, work
too new for such an old body.

My youth spent bent in labor,
family cut away in anger.
Before I rot away in some churchyard,
I kneel with the fool’s wish
that the spring could wash it all from me.

The sun drags its red spine
across the ridge.
Stone steadies my shoulders in its cool grip
I dissolve into cloud,
a child warmed in arms of water,
its breath rising around me like ghosts.

Rain breaks, sudden and brief.
Creosote exhales its sly, eternal smell.
A cairn rises from the sand,
stones balanced without name-
its long shadow
measures this sand in silence.

Alkali on skin,
sulfur edge to air,
dust on tongue.

Gravity presses,
bone across rock,
and heat seams my back-
a mercy scraped thin,
hours from the outskirts.

A mountain hangs upside down
on the pool’s surface.
I drink not my reflection,
but the earth’s fire gone gentle.

The surroundings's drenched
Fallen leaves and trees shiver
And the last drop falls

4AM-
a boy runs across
the four-lane roadway,

eyes like rare stones,
face burlap-creased dust,
jean shorts, a dolphin backpack
meant for someone smaller.

I track in my car,
take the exit that curves
around an abandoned encampment.

I find cement steps,
but the boy is gone.

Only smoke remains:
a hooded figure curled
in a doorway of a derelict building,
an empty tent split by knife.

The world recedes,
layered, unbroken.

another vision settling
into the mind,
a thick silence I fold
into the others.

Leave me alone. I want it really much.
No explanations or hard feelings
I won’t answer anything. I’ll just keep quiet.
And please, forgive my broken bearing.

I am so tired of other problems,
And silly fuss and needless dramas.
I just want silence! You hear me? Silence!
And not in whisper, but stone-dead! Yes!

I don’t want dramas with you any more.
I’m sick of arguments at nights at all.
And that’s enough of all these ******, base-league fool quips.
No words are needed. Please, be quiet in whole.

Please, just forget me for a day.
And if forever, I will never sorrow.
I am not here. I’m emptiness for all.
I’m tired and done. I won’t be back tomorrow.

In this world,
out there in open,
many things appear to be broken.

In this world, when it’s the darkest,
I find myself restless and breathless,
running back to the nest,
never safe, but where it’s best.

In this world, if ever so bright,
let there be a ray of light,
a new life, a new sprout,
let it, oh please, be found.

A long-held dream
regrettably, it’s not all what it seems.

A promise made, a secret kept,
where silence is never to be seen again.

A reckless risk, a mighty wish,
blowing back and forth in a sweet breeze.

In this world, despair’s the ruler.
You’ll never hear of anything much crueler.

So here we are left,
There’s no one to blame,
nothing to tame,
it can’t be defeated,
it can’t be helped,
just another feature of a daily hell.

In this world, an old decree,
we’re all doomed to such degree,
beyond salvation,
without a nation.

In this world,
we are not who we are meant to be,
we die at the beginning,
we live at the end.

In this world,
the end’s the matter,
and no one cares about the means.

In this world, I cannot live.
For I’ve decided to end,
and I’ve refused to begin.