last summer fight

when you get drown

I see you getting drown

then when I call you

just take my hand

do not resist

take my hand

I pull you out



it is the pain within

that brings you loneliness

among even thousands of people

even the dearest of people

what throws you far from the crowd

is the thickness of the lie

it is the depth of what hurts

what you can see

but you don’t want to see

what you know

but you don’t want to know

it is that scream

that rage


that makes you sound so soft,

look so calm,

so fluid.

it is the scare

it is the wideness

of that scare

it is perhaps

that much transparency

that makes you invisible

that much clarity that makes you fragile.

what throws you far from the crowd

is the thickness of the lie

it is the humility

the humble pain


that brings you loneliness

among even thousands of people

even the dearest of the dearest of people.

sick leave

I cant grow plants

in a burnt heart

at least till the time

the ashes are still there

not forgotten

I need time

I cant just wake up on any day

and say


ok, today I smile.

to be fairly real

I need a bit of time

to swallow things

days with flue



are also days

and they also end up with a night.

then, even if we dont move

there is no pause in our flow

so there comes a breeze

or maybe a shift in stars

and direction of light

and blows the ashes

fills the holes

I get up

I dance again,

and deal with the mass of ego

we spit on the earth

and accept that we are all one, the same.

and I deal with it.

plastic wings?

how fascinating

is to watch humans

wearing wingsuits

and literally let their weight

is this really flying?

or a massive free fall?

are they really flying?

or they are just falling down

but slower, softer and more fearless?


my job

is to work with numbers

my pain

is that I have grown

not to believe in numbers

is n’t this the biggest irony?

making sense of digits

justifying ilussions

and therefor making a living

ماضی نقلی

من همه جا
هر جا که بوده ام
خسته شده ام
اشک ریخته ام
به ستوه آمده ام

من هیچ جایی را بر نتابیده ام
بی طاقت بوده‌ام و ته کشیده ام

من پشت همهٔ این میز‌های مربع چوبی
کم شده ام
تحلیل رفته ام

و کم کم فراری شده ام

من همیشه فرار کرده ام

بی قرار بوده ام

دویده‌ام اما دور حلقه‌های تصادفی چرخیده ام

نفس‌های بلند کشیده‌ام اما تصمیم‌های بی‌درنگ گرفته ام
آرام بوده‌ام اما دردم را گاهگاه فریاد کشیده ام

nonesense tonight

you know when you feel like constantly floating

because you can not believe in gravity

but then the fear of reality hits you and you fall??

چهارشنبه سوري

آخرين چهارشنبه سال است

و بايد از روي آتش پريد

گرچه اينجا باران مي آيد و هر چيز آتشيني را قبل از اينكه خيز بگيري خاموش مي كند

نه سرخي من ازاوست و نه زردي او از من

من هم خسته ام و حوصله ي پريدن ندارم

به جايش با تمام سكون از بچه هاي همسايه مان پرستاري مي كنم.

سبزه كاشته ام و چشم دلم به ديدن ريشه هايش بند است

منتظر بهارم

منتظر رفتن

و دوباره زاده شدن

و هيچ كس و هيچ چيز جلودارم نيست.


you cant count people stories these days

they would need a background

a sense full ending

a surprise, to make their hearts pound

you have to keep their eyes wide open

these days

its a hassle to tell people tales.

they come to you to leave

and they expect a gentle welcome

a respectful farewell.

they step into you

awaiting for meanings to take away

a conclusion an abstract

and mathematics

a lot of twisted fancy mathematics.