People born in houses don’t see The glass we have been put in It’s sides are sharp It’s covering is closed and we are in it Our mothers...

What is the worst persecution? To be nakedly present in the world Or to disappear in your own shadows Lying, swearing, biting your lips...

Pretense My fingernails turn blue and dirty The Colours of pretense are filthy. The blueish shade tells you, I am half masked and half...

War, love, and art Nothing matches the atrocity I’ve done to my own self In the hope of death I found the arms of an ambiguous woman...

The urge in me to be a mother Is strange, Strange since it buys a pedestal And I want to reach it The urge in me to be a mother Is sad...

Sometimes it’s like an unfinished poem to say a simple goodbye to you. When you say “bye” it’s like a big funfair with hundreds of people...

if I could choose to become something else, I’d become a cloth, Plain white with rough edges The edges that will tear apart skin A skin...

I dream of a home In a poor town, Where stray dogs rest And cats hide kittens Where we cry aloud And silence is our conversation Where...