publish

usually:
when one ties a certain topic
with a great amount of emotion
one cannot
unbiasedly
and very logically
comprehend it and classify it

with writing comes what is massive
almost
uncontainable
I rais my arms to
maybe hold it
a little
but I dont even know
where to put my palms
this whole topic
        poetry
and books
and so on
is extremely massive
I cannot see its edges
I cannot hold it
I just rais my arms
and try to keep
up
what is falling
down


"I am too fond of books
to write them"

simultaneously
I am too fond of books
to let them free
I am too fond
-the word fond
is soo weak-
I burn
with  too much
uncomfortable
laughable
embarrassing
inconvenient
even
harmful passion
to simply
let
poetry
free.


I try to write it
and sometimes
I cant bare the sight of my own words
most times

and consequently
I cannot even look at
other's

poetry
will
you please
let go
I can be a scientist
if you were to maybe
untangle me

so is
the likes
of the lover
instead
I cannot take off a ring
or say
a few words
and not even see
your face
you
you
take shelter
in the center
of my bones
and I wish
and I
each morning rise
and midnight
half dream
be
you
be
falling
un-uniformed poetry
I burn with the
'there'
of you
 so much
I speak you despite the laughter
or silence
 after
there goes
my lover.
*publish*