Bowtie

From heat—
I sought refuge in the cold chamber.
From the cold chamber—
I fled to the coffin.
And from the coffin?
Only empty hands
bury the solar system inside me.

Though coffins may be
the cheapest rooms in real estate ads,
no cell is more solitary than a grave.

Please remember us—
all of us—
in a single tomb.

We are buried incomplete
because our bones
are stuck in your throat.

With your umbrella,
you tried to take revenge on the sun.
But didn’t you hear?
Even “sun”
whispers “water.”

From the conspiracy
between rain and sunlight,
grant the dream of a rainbow
to the evaporated hope of water—
now sold in aquariums.

Though bottled,
a state of fish
has been dismantled.

Which fountain
can survive its neck severed?

Where on the river’s throat
do the dam’s fingerprints
vanish in purification plants?

From bruised throats,
a museum of fingerprints has emerged.

Even the observer
has closed his eyes.
These tickets—
which field of vision do they open?

Desire—
drenched
between the eyes and the sea.

From all the temptations
that chased a kite,
only a diamond
remains on the geometry test.

A butterfly
divided the world
between two wings.
For the crime of unusual colors,
it was denied
a colored photograph.

The butterfly’s bright thoughts
escaped the cocoon too soon.
In an age of color extinction,
the colors chose suicide
in black-and-white themes.

I didn’t paint—
but I stretched new canvases
for old paintings.

Photos,
forgotten by memory—
yet one of them
will settle, eventually,
in the frame of our obituary.

As painters and photographers,
we agreed on the truth of faces,
yet clashed
as deeply as our tools.

Still—
our hands
are the latest fashion
in bowties:
designed
to grip collars.

— Aref Moallemi

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This strange feel...

On the flesh you carved
Or my peace you narrowed
Or the laughter you borrowed...

Is this real...

Shocking my nerves
Breaking my bones
Shattering my emotions...

Could I deal...

Waking my eyes in pain
Tears drowning my cheeks in rain
Pitching my soul to drain...

Would I heal...

Crystals of white fears
As my heavy tears,
Ran to calm your fierce.
And yet and yet and yet,
You brushed salt
Of your every fault
Right over the flesh
You carved,
Gleaming peace amidst
The red blood crying
On my would...
Could I smile...
Would I be alive...
But one for sure,
That my soul is in harm
Around your arm...

-Aiden

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Relationships are like Birds 🕊️✨

If you hold tightly, they die.🍂

If you hold lightly, they will fly.🎋

But if you hold with care, 🤍
they remain with you forever ♾️

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https://x.com/dogelonmars/status/2013353309894037659?s=46

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https://x.com/DogelonMars/status/2007835473440362521?s=20

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METHUSELAH FOUNDATION ISSUES NOTICE OF CLARIFICATION

https://x.com/mfoundation/status/1998785804257185827

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4

The SOL / ELON farm on PancakeSwap is live. 22 CAKE per day of incentives up for grabs. Explore below 🤵🥞✨
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https://x.com/ApeBond/status/1992986837128786226?s=20

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https://x.com/dogelonmars/status/1983264873791586662?s=46

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