9 – Screech

who would have guessed, if you listen closely, you can hear colors screech in pain in a Van Gogh self-portrait. My ears are bleeding a sunset. Van Gogh went out to get Absinthe and bandage, what a night we are going to have, you should come. 10.9.17 Washington, D.C. Peyman  

8 – Crooked

Never cared to be straightened anyway look what happened to straightest trees I am writing this poem on a table made out of their body. No thanks, I'll stay crooked and write poetry, you live that perfect life. 10.6.17 Washington, D.C. Peyman

7 – Shy

Never been, until that time when the night opened her mouth, and through the slit, red as a fresh cut fig, you came with a thousand laughters blossoming in your mouth. 10.6.17 Washington, D.C. Peyman