for each 


that cut

from my hair

deducts the value

of me

to be here:

a man in the history 

a page of the story 

a line in my poetry

a second in a century

that counts for nothing

but a dream to be buried.

Written on 19 June 2015.



Capture it with your eyes,
Carve it on your soul:

There is always something
That you cannot keep through the lenses,
That you cannot keep it with snaps and shots,
That you cannot re-present it by words and phrases —

Your feeling is everything
That counts.


Written on 26 December 2013.
Something about feelings.
Have not been updating recently because I was busy hunting for a job.
And now it is done.
Right — people here, in this very city, are born to be deprived.



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