I want to love the self that you say is you.

I lived my youth in dreams of others.

May I exchange T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland with the future of this earth like a lunatic’s dreams and make one season of poetry farming by tilling with the pen of desire.

Together; we would create some ecstatic memories, but you are either busy or sleepy.

I salute my desires with a bow.were it not for them to come and playmind would be empty just like me.

Tonight, let us exchange every part of our bodies and every space of our souls to each other.

The eyes hold tears for so long; let us fill it with love and passion.

But I want to write poetry of an age dancing in the tunes of ruptures that is full of life.

I want to love you coming out of this circuit of illusion a false world that grows by gloating with its own vanity.