In this empty evening,
how many silences
shall we award you with?
In this empty evening,
how many questions
shall we honor you with?
This empty evening
will only look enlightened
after you arrive.
This empty evening
will only turn
into a sacred one
when you wish so.
This empty evening
will feel firm and strong
when you rain love upon it.
This empty evening
will feel full and heavy
when you smile soft into it.
I don’t want to discuss what happened before. I just want to adjust my contrast. I aim to brighten the light that still loves me. I hope to soften the shadows that don’t.
Don’t worry about the traffic
walk slowly on my heart’s lane.
I’ll throw you kisses like paper planes,
lifting off into open sky,
leaving no departure gate behind.
I don’t want to repeat my past like a donut.
It goes round and round with the same hole in the middle.
The circling sweetness eventually turns heavy.
I’ll break that loop gently. I will keep only the sweet bite of memory. I will roll it once more in my mind. It’s just enough to taste the beautiful.
Coz I see you in those moments. You are still warm like a window in winter. You are quiet like rain on a tired roof. You feel near even when far.
The rest is history
this right here,
this heartbeat,
this breath,
this warmth
is my story.
They were way smarter than me.
Or maybe just… older in the soul.
I said it like confession,
and someone asked
Why? What happened?
I told them,
They beat me in my own game.
What game?
they said.
The game of life.
And I stood there,
puzzled by my own answer
because I didn’t understand it either.
Not fully.
Not then.
It was something deep.
Something beneath language,
beneath thought,
beneath bone.
They asked me again
What is it, man? What changed you?
I said quiet, almost whisper,
I liked her.
Who?
Alien girl.
Yes, strange to the world,
beautiful to my chaos,
eyes like oceans that didn’t belong to Earth.
Which alien girl? they pushed.
The one with blue eyes.
The one who made galaxies feel small.
The one I tried to describe,
but every word felt too human for her.
She couldn’t stay.
I knew it
before she said it.
Why? they asked,
as if there was an answer simple enough.
Her family said
we are infected from inside.
Not with disease , no.
But with longing, with wanting, with hunger.
Infected with greed.
And maybe they were right.
Maybe we take more than we give,
hold tighter than we release,
love like possession
instead of prayer.
But my love for her…
wasn’t greed.
It was surrender.
It was quiet.
It was real.
She understood.
But her family didn’t.
Couldn’t.
And so one night
she left like a dream evaporating with dawn.
Now the stars look different.
Like missing punctuation.
Like a sentence unfinished.
Like a love poem
someone forgot to finish.
And sometimes,
when the night is soft,
I still feel those blue eyes
reading my soul like scripture
and I whisper to the darkness,
I wasn’t trying to own you.
I was trying to love you.
But galaxies don’t stay for gravity,
and angels don’t kneel for men.
So I stand here
infected world, empty hands
telling a story only the moon believes.
What have you lost?
A mind or a purse?
If it is mind
I have none
If it is purse
oh take it nurse
What have you lost?
Your heart or your sense?
If it is sense
I have none
Coz I am already insane
to find the heart you have lost.
What have you kept?
A smile or a lie?
If it is smile
give me one
If it is lie
oh let it die
What have you kept?
A tear or a dream?
If it is tear
leave it be
If it is dream
come share with me
For I have pockets full of questions
and hands empty of answers
yet still I stand here foolish
hoping your heart remembers.
It doesn’t mean I smooch my face with a pillow that make false attempt
to solve the heaviness I carry,
it only means I rest for a while
because some days feel sharp,
and softness is the only thing that listens
I wake with hope again,
even if it is small, even if it flickers.
I tell myself
maybe the world is still learning me,
as I am learning it
Maybe kindness is slow,
like seed under soil
where nobody sees growth
but it is happening anyway.
I cannot ask the world to hold me
if I do not also try
to hold the world with both hands,
even when my fingers tremble
So I walk, I stay, I breathe,
with whatever I know today
Maybe tomorrow the world and I
will understand each other a little more
They call it the Bubble.
A breakthrough in human defense — biological, social, even psychological.
Once activated, it surrounds you with an invisible field that filters air, blocks pathogens, and regulates personal space. Nobody can come too close without your consent.
It’s more than a shield — it’s a statement.
Your immune system, your privacy, your peace — finally under your control.
There are layers, of course.
One layer is basic: protection from everyday viruses, dust, and unwanted energy.
Two layers — that’s for the cautious.
But three… three layers mean you’ve entered elite territory. Triple defense.
The kind that can even withstand a direct hit, metaphorical or not.
They say if someone fires a bullet at you — God forbid — the first bubble takes the hit.
If it breaks, the second activates instantly, alerting you.
And if the third one ever fails… well, you probably won’t be around to tell the story.
The network’s still evolving. Updates are constant. Defense departments are skeptical. Ethics boards are hesitant.
But people — people are desperate.
For safety. For solitude. For control.
In a world where every breath is monitored and every touch is a risk,
the Bubble isn’t just protection.
It’s freedom.
For a price.
you are better than any upgrades
no system requirements
no limits
just an instant login
to your smile
your bright face
like the sun just rose high
just for me
oh you are not
a material of goodbye
no
you are built of stay
you are someone tough
but maybe soft
soft enough to melt me
oh we could make love on a loft
high, careless
soft again
soft
till silence breathes with us
we are together
in emotions
hugging without hands
touching without touch
but
aren’t we only memory
after we die?
just a ghost of feeling
replayed
in someone’s mind
like a saved file
no body
only blur
only warmth
only once?
with innocence
as i could deal people more nicely
no suspicion
no guard
no armor
and still not get duped maybe?
oh God
just shower me some sense
not too heavy
just enough to walk straight
am i wasting my time writing this?
or am i building something big?
I THINK I AM MAKING BIG SENSE
(like a child screaming logic
in a room of grown-up fools)
OH YES
A BIG BANNER
of nonsense
that somehow speaks
truer than truth.
He lost his tone,
became like bone
cold, stiff,
shivering, starving for heat.
He turned boneless,
laughed like a funny bone
until laughter wasn’t funny anymore.
Next moment
helpless
he saw his girlfriend
in a Ferrari
without him,
with someone else.
And oh, he decided….
I will buy a yacht.
Dreamed stupid-big dreams,
dreams too tall for his pocket.
He fell back into the hole
the same one he dug,
did wrong things
to look right
in front of the one he chose.
No guidelines, no map
only hope,
and hope is a dangerous drug.
Maybe if you’re lucky
the world throws you one coin,
one chance.
Tell me
is it a crime to die poor?
or just another story
nobody wants to hear?
Do they talk?
What do they talk about?
BAckstabbing!BAckbiting!
Do they talk like that?
really?
or is it just us
words trembling loose from hands that never learned to hold truth
No way,
these minds we call others,
intelligent beings.
How could they mumble their own madness?
How could they pull the trigger inside their own skull of thought?
Wait
breathe
we are brothers, aren’t we?
Two sides of the same seed.
Aliens watching from the balcony,
front row seats,
popcorn galaxies in hand,
whispering
don’t show them the shame.
Don’t zoom in on the bleeding heart
of a species still learning
how to love without fear.
But here we are,
human vs human,
war like a festival,
violence like a anthem,
and they sit there
enjoying the match
from a place we cannot climb,
a height we never earned.
Oh wow
this institution we praise,
glass temples of clever men
what exactly were you teaching?
What did you send us home with?
Knowledge or noise?
Two world wars,
and you call that education?
You call that growth?
More chapters coming
darker ones maybe.
How about we flip the page,
scribble new lessons,
please,
maybe add a syllabus
of peace,
of touch-like-rain,
of love not borrowed but grown,
love like breath,
simple, free.
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