autumn’s horizon

cobwebs cover your eyes
and from where you are
have cracks on air.

you stand on shattered
mirrors. the pain is the
enemy of your entirety.

grey sheets of the autumn’s
horizon are pasted like
dirt on the wall.



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Scattered diamonds in
the highest skies of the
endless universe are not
movements of procrastinating

but they are sentences
on public papers of offices
from Moscow to Hongkong and
Sao Paulo to New York city.

Wild beatings of husbands
to wives of doubtful marriages
send messages to police stations
from Cambodia to Colombia and
Nicaragua to India.

Songs from the mouth of
this generation are tunes
of endless reasons from good
to bad philosophy and

someone beside me
cannot take them anymore.



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the unfathomable love

hold me
like there is no
end of time.

hold me
where our universe
forgets who we are.

hold me
as we fight the war
inside our minds.

hold me
when your heart is
scarred with pain.

hold me
and together we are
the unfathomable love.



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misconception of things

i tell you something…
this has been going on
many times, i keep on

and falling in love
with you is better
than most everything.

which to them is like
the misconception of

they perceive me as
the wrong someone for

and i disregard their
treacherous feelings.

if we are meant to be,
then we are meant to be.

something must be done
to hinder their motives
of breaking what we have.



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a year that was

a year that was
of first time, of drama,
of war.

a year loaded with
new faces, new flights,
new fights.

and so it went
a lot of a hell and
i cannot even deny.



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There are sides
of the story that we
believe. There are confessions

that we do not
desire to absorb, yet
our feelings are compromised.

We talk like
there is no end of the
day, we speak further of

what we know.
Something important is
missing sometimes.

Contentment does not
exist in the hearts of
the pride and the selfish.

We use unfair reasons to
defend ourselves, but we
ignore the consequences.

Do we still see
ourselves as human beings
who can model the truth?



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They remind me everywhere.
The sounds too loud, the
pictures too aesthetic, the
taste too pungent,

and oh well, I can’t
run away from them.

I am attached with the freedom
to think. My brain is in the
cycle of this on-going process.

I am wired on a fence
that borders from this
imagination to that dream.

The scenes play on and
on.Motion is haunting me. I
cannot escape from this malady.



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