So what if I die?

So what if I die?

So what if I’ll be forgotten?

So what if my room would be occupied by someone else?

So what if my clothes would be donated for some charity?

So what if I liked to make people smile? 

So what my smell would be gone forever?

So what if my place would be taken by someone else in all the lives I have lived?

So what if my stationary paraphernalia would be thought of as waste?

So what if people would talk about my bad and forget my good?

So what if my mere existence would remain in the photographs? 

So what if my personality would just translate into an image?

So what if I’ll die? 

... dear moon

While walking under the street lights,

following my own silhoutte,

shooing away cockroaches, listening to lizardous music,

fiddling with my phone,

I sneezed. 

I sneezed and looked up in the sky,

and the celestial body attached with the black cloth,

black, dark and infinite.

And cockroaches, phone forgotten

The thought struck me,

if I could dance with you, 

on the lonesome road,

and like I won't point at your flaws,

you shouldn't too.

Dear moon.

I don't want you to judge me,

and make faces while I dance. While,

the music would be composed by cockroaches,

and humming of flies,

and ringtone of the phone,

and lizards cheering, 

because we are together. 

What if?

what if i am unable to discriminate between what and what not.

what if i can’t judge between how to and how not to. 

what if i can’t handle the humor the way its meant to be.

what if i abandon my emotions and use pure logic.

what if i find comfort in another’s pain and not sorry. 

what if i suddenly become a meat-eater and abstain eating veggies.

what if i give up photography and lose myself in chores.

what if i intake all unhealthy and refrain from healthy.
what if all i demand is respect from people and can do without love.

what if i like to call myself open-minded and not closed.

what if life is full of what-if-s noone can get back to me about.