"And there is forever.

With the fear of loss and a presage of doom,

happiness has a texture of permanence,

even though it’s no more than the reflection of eternity

in the mirror of desires."

"It’s a young man, naked, sculpted,

fit as Michelangelo’s David.

A wisp of melancholy lingered

in the outer corners of his translucent eyes,

a slight cruelty looming under them.

These eyes look at you with blasé elegance

or look away with sad contempt.

Everything on him conflicts with each other,

and every photo is stunning with contrasts.

His eyes are not conventionally pretty,

but as a whole, they make this man perfectly imperfect,

a masterpiece done by chance.

This face exudes both

boyishness and lust,

brutality and sadness,

nonchalance and sensibility—

a face that combines every look of lies.

The model sits on a bed, smiling. It’s the kind of smile that appears only when 

you try to memorize what is in front of you,

what strikes you at once that

you will live on it for the

rest of your life."

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LEONARDO is a young artist's cut-throat adventure to God and fame through two distinctive lovers and a family tragedy. The novel discloses that only after one experiences a worldly and selfish love can one know the love of God. Meanwhile, it delves into the tragedy of having everything life has to offer too early.


Winter is hateful

Take away the color

gone with all hopes

the trampled slush

sand hardens the chill

Crows                   are the bald tree's leaves

flutter and


No complacence in their song

Are they missing the autumn as I am

Do they feel sorry 

for their blackness

just like I've been tired of permanence                 

in the lust for things that won't last                  

to last

Why the apocalypse waits so long?

cruel for being late

for the days when we were happy

I was a prisoner


is the past where

diamonds blaze like summer


overthrows the sun

Either they cheat in Bible

or Heaven is in chaos

with no lights on

Now you know why angels dressing white

God is stingy after all

you gotta borrow fire from you old warm


He's sweeping the dustless street

glowing like a lightbulb in daytime 

outside my drowned window

blue and intact

I vote down the scheme of suicide

in dreams,                  

but wake up and find

I was dead