شرابی هست از چشمه ای
که از قلب زنی می جوشد
شرابی گاهی تلخ با ته مزه‌ای از خاک

نوش دارویی سنگین و عمیق
که خواب می کند سلولهای فکر را حتی ساعتی 
از بیهوده جنبیدن

پاها را سست می کند و سینه را می گشاید
بی سپر بی‌شمشیر بی‌کلمه، بازدمی می شود از دلی 
که تکه‌هایش را می جوید

شرابی از چشمه ای
که از قلب تپنده‌ی زنی می جوشد
زنی همانند من
این چنین همراه زندگی
.و تا این حد جدا از آن

Downtown Tehran

درون من دختری کوچک زندگی کرده
بی‌آنکه سال‌ها شکل دستانش را آن چنان تغییر دهند
بی آنکه قلبش از بار وقایع روی هم انباشته 
از تکه‌های صد بار از هم گسیخته
سنگینی کند

دختری کوچک که از هرچیز فقط ذره ای می داند
از هر زبانی چندین کلمه

زندگی برایش 
بیشتر آوازیست
حتی اگر داستانش را در گوشهایت جیغ می کشد
حتی وقتی می آزارد

شاید این فقط تعریف او، برداشت اوست
یا شاید رویاییست که به آن بی‌پایه و بی‌اساس پرداخته
و ترکش نمی کند

درون من دختری کوچک زندگی کرده
و هر روز
ذره ای بیشتر
روزی بیشتر
زندگی می‌کند

supposed to be inspired


I dance the most where there is mess and tension and urban blocks

shopping malls

huge parkings

train stations

nature is great you know

it is clear but

its elements already got their organic moves

so I would rather stay still.

social undistancing


that every person around

literally everyone you pass by

is going through what exactly you go through on daily basis

through the same emotions

same suffeeings

same taste of joy

through the same feeling of not being loved or accepted

through the same sweetness of feeling loved

and accepted, the way you are

imagine their battles

small ones in your eyes or big ones

their anger, their take of injustice

their sexual attractions, things they wont tell anyone

imagine all those things people never talk about.

the collective secret

غول چراغ جادو

در هيچ جعبه اي جا نمى شوم

بخواهي نخواهي

زندگى داستانش را برايم تعريف مي كند

با آب و تاب و فراز و نشيب

در برابرش مي ايستم روز تا شب تا روز

و گوش مي دهم اما گاه گاه

صدايم را دربرابرش بلند مى كنم چون مى خواهم

از كوتاهى اش بكاهم

نمى توانم تمامى اش را بپذيرم

نمى توانم فراموش كارى هايش را به جان بخرم

به حال خودش رهايش كنم

سينه سپر مى كنم به چيزي در برابرم

و ديوانگى ام را بهانه مى كنم

post full moon

As the big moon makes the ocean water rise

My spirit becomes unstoppable

my heart gets so wild

my body grows so vast

even black holes cant eat me up.

It fits in your science or it does nt..

call me nuts, I got no place for facts.

I am related and connected

My spirits are unstoppable.

جهان هولوگرافيك

نه مى ارزيد

اين راه كج و كوله

به درازى اش

نه اين بار، به سنگينى اش

نه اين صدا به لرزشش

و نه اين صورت به گردن انداختنش

اين ترس، به زيستن، به تنفس، به خفايش

هرگز نمى ارزيد.

THE DEAD line.

This world
abso-fucking-loutly is not for everyone.

Somedays are definitely not some people’s days.

And we either walk around spread advices to everyone and be the intelligence police.
or just dive deep into our ignorant life, where the problem is everyone and everything
but not ourselves.

Every single day is a day when some feel like they do not fit in this world.
and you know,
probably they are right.

A year.

What a winter we passed.

I found a note on my phone calling my living room “the association of sick plants”.
The same living room where so much love was created and spread,
was then turned to a dark ground-floor hole filled with spider nets and the cigarettes.

And then the spring came and things were a little bit better.
The world messier than ever but still,
There was a lover and there were friends and laughter and trees in the garden.
There was music and somehow a little room to dream on.

Some of those sick plants died but then new ones were born,
thanks to some magic and care with my little drops of power,
little drops of life energy.

And you know, it is really fine!
Who wants to be green and happy all the time?
there is truth is darkness, and there is truth in death.

Then, June came and this big beautiful Benjamin tree invited itself to the same living room.
the very same dark hole, where love is created and spread.

You have got to be on the watch because June always brings fantastic stuff. always!

And now, September it is!
Septembers are full of Drama.
Days too warm and days too cold.

day 24

there must be a spring

in my story

there must be a blossoming

a being born again


why does my skin feels so tight to me

why do I feel bigger than the space I take