(from "the flaming stillness")
time flows like water
mother died one day
nights go deeper and deeper
when night comes, every past
and future death comes
along with darkness
and silence
no longer human 'cause
couldn't save the cat while
drifting under the scorching sun
though a boat trapped in hell of stillness
isn't allowed to have a heart,
being soaked in the sea of oblivion
caused committing an indelible sin
tears of the unqualified
are just like
sounds
everything
is just
like cavity
and regret
(from "Rotten") A hole in the huge wooden table A rotten tooth what went into the hole But because there was so much darkness, people kept putting their hands in it. It looked funny so that the boy sat still and laughed, then they angrily beat thim and dragged him by the hand.
(from "the most stale and old value")
what people are passionate about
is the most stale and old value
now the absolute truth left for them
is only what they hate the most
a swarm of infested maggots
over the rotting bodies
over their unpleasantly cold bodies
because
their deaths would be most immoral
(from "the breathing")
shadows waving in layers
beneath the blue lights
were blackened
and the silence
with a deafening symphony
was frozen
only the breathing
breaks the ice of silence
like a cry of a bird
glimmering deeply and unstably
in this huge world
I am left alone
I am left alone.
the cold silence
the desolate darkness
the breathing piercing the air
in that suffocating swell
I am left alone
I am left alone.
sinking is
not a bad thing
(from "The Beggar and the Virtue") They handed coins to the beggar.
They greeted him friendly and smiled.
As the beggar smiled together,
they turned away, went elsewhere.
They visited the virtue who was sick.
They gave the virtue words of consolation.
They were truly heartbroken, wanted to add good faith.
The virtue made a confession of his own life
and they also spoke of their own virtue.
The virtue thanked them.
The beggar didn't understand their virtue,
so he cut off his tongue, threw it at them.
The beggar felt a sense of loss, but they showed disgust.
The beggar couldn’t see the virtue’s face.
(from "the red rooms")
in front of my house,
there is a street lined with red rooms
out there are the prurient
with lewd hearts
devils are ceaselessly thrashing within them,
mistaking sordid selfishness for wisdom.
(from "Moths") rainy late night, a bright glass door of the mall, the place of ghostly large, achromatic colored moths they always whisper under their breaths you beware of those who crush the eyes that are awake at night
(from "fragments of ennui")
grains of white dust, stickily settled on the void
floundering flies, trapped in the air
red bones and damp wet soil
the black nail, cursing its own death
yellow lumps of fat, morbidly
poured into the drain
the caprice of flies and the malice of spiders
the only things that smile at us
in the void on the blade
the power of anxiety, a deadly greed that melts
the brain, among them, what blue anxiety
likes the most, air and resistance
admiration and contempt, something like love and hate,
something like the foolish youthful heart
toward a beast living only on instinct
ideas and trivial jokes
reality, illusions, delusions, ideals
compassion, denial, turning away, darkness
regret, death, loss, past, faith, distrust, doubt
an empty black mouth like the whitened
cloudy eyes of a turtle
Fire, sea, fall.
the sea, always the abject of fear
not even a handful of void
did the sea allow
(from "Blue Blood") I loathe people who raise their voice only when they're in the crowds. They have the red blood, which simmers only in the dark. And you have to face them almost every night, unless you have the sufficient territory. In front of your tiny tight place, they resonate with the vulgarity and cruelty of life, always spitting their red blood. It's like a real hell, honestly.
(from "The Faithful Heart") Couldn't get closer to anything with staying still, so I got scared when I saw a bad poetry. At the heads of fools, gonna gather bones of peaches and throw'em, and then giggle and laugh for you sons of bitches.
(from "The Last Poetry")
The scene was literally being exploded with rage
and the darkness was so murky as to make an ominous color.
Eventually, she pushed the opponent away
and as the door closed, she laid back in bed
and took an unsightly posture.
She seemed to be trying to sleep.
The artificial rays disappeared along with the opponent,
but the murky colored darkness remained in the place.