You macerate me and
I create art...

There was a little puppy
named Asskan...

This scrap of dirt
this portion of earth...

I and my odes
are never alone...

Life means the amnesia of death,
the amnesia of existence of the death...

Smile in the mirror with all your cries,
all your tender spots, raw...

Looking into the paradox of distance and...
choosing between the destination...

Truth cannot be used as the mean of cruelty.
Love overrides all the human values & virtues...

Is a real performer to perform in real life?
Are all of these acts...

I don’t care if you believe in God or not.
But those who anonymously “know” God...

I know you all by now
must have seen how vulnerable I am...

This makes no sense.
What is this sound...