January 21, 2008


As soon as I realized about what my identity is, on all walks of life I tried to fight one simple statement:
But, by now, I know that I'm stained somehow. Yeah, tinted, at least.

Posted by Shervin at 12:49 AM | Comments (6)

June 25, 2007


Words pour, reflected over walls of the world and the mind, they pour. With no complaints, I carry them around inside myself while that tender picture is missing.

Posted by Shervin at 12:07 AM | Comments (1)

March 27, 2007


I should not fall...

Posted by Shervin at 11:28 PM

February 12, 2007

A Scratch in Tears

No one ever had commitment towards me,
I don't know how it would feel to have someone's commitment,
Even in tears,
Goodbye tears,
I should be dead not to adore things I've lived for.

Posted by Shervin at 02:40 AM | Comments (1)

January 24, 2007

To N.

11:25 PM
People are mirrors.
Infinities come in between.
They never know how they're built.
11:26 PM

Posted by Shervin at 12:29 AM

July 01, 2006

Sweet Fade Out

When friendship and love come in, darkness fades to light. It's like the dawn of a new day never seen before. It's a sweet fade out this time.

Posted by Shervin at 11:54 PM

November 25, 2005


The road is long and hard. So choose a truthful companion, otherwise one must strongly believe in true meaning of lonliness.
These days, denial won't work anymore.

Posted by Shervin at 05:47 PM

November 14, 2005


I want to get rid of the things that kill slowly. If I ever want to choose death, I prefer the direct, purposeful one.

Posted by Shervin at 04:41 PM

November 05, 2005

The Circus

Fantasies of dark, smelly, small room in cheap roadside motels and the sun always going down behind the semi-open curtains. Being on the road and staying together through the never-ending journey. Cheap American paperbacks. Light-classic music, where they just conduct the pop music hits with the orchestra without the vocal to make them pieces of muzak; Hotel California syndrome. Being romantic toward the world in a holistic way, even in its hardness, even in its pain. When your emotions are holy for yourself and you are dreaming all the time. Huh! What a life! What a world! Was it me?

Life seems all romantic when you are in mid-teen period. Everything you discover is magic. When time passes it would be like a circus band which can't move from a city to another and also insists on going through the same usual show every single night. And that would be so silly, so stupidly boring to watch that same show over and over forever. And no one thinks that someday, a long time from now in the past, the same show was something brand new, mind-blowing, exciting and totally memorable as they thought at that time. But no one remembers calling such a boring thing memorable or they don’t want to remember telling so.

No one thinks about what happened to that mysterious glory. The spell is broken and the magic is lost.

Posted by Shervin at 08:46 PM

October 23, 2005


It's midnight. The memories revisited. You say the words on odorless, senseless IM window. You say your "happy birthday"s on midnight. 00:00. Yes, I've turned 25. 25 more to go I believe. I wonder how am I alive? How I have survived? It doesn't matter anymore..."I just want you to know, that you don't need me anymore..."*. I wished you happiness. I do everyday, every single time I revise our memories. I want you happy. That's one healthy thing to ask for, isn't it? By the way, I'm thinking about the remaining half. Would it be better? Should this be exactly the half? No one knows! I think the spring once feed with sorrow is drying. I only write bullshit. Never been this much dry. Thicker the skin, safer the life, dumber the words...that's the rule I try to disobey. But...

"Who's to say where the wind will take you
Who's to say what it is will break you
I don't know
Which way the wind will blow"*

Posted by Shervin at 02:16 AM

September 25, 2005

Out Projection

When leaving a love, one must get cruel toward memories in place of being cruel toward oneself. It’s the easiest way to project the fury and rage out of the mind. Never looking back, never remembering, blaming the one who has left and believing that it wasn’t oneself fault at all that such a bad fortune happened. These are the rules learnt from the world; Bitter end for sweet memories.

Posted by Shervin at 05:25 PM

May 16, 2005


When there is a heart beating in your chest, there is jealousy for sure. And when you start to pretend you are not jealous, the heart would change, would forget. It would pump hate and disguise to your brain. All in blood, red warm raging blood in your veins. So you would change and forget, too.
And that is always been the way the most loving hearts gave place to something beating frighteningly. Aye, emblem of hate! Aye, a piece of stone!

Posted by Shervin at 09:46 PM

January 06, 2005

The Silent Shadow of the Starry Night

I’ve never written anything for you or about you. Don’t know why I haven’t. May be for the reason that you’ve never made me angry, sad and depressed, and I’m mostly writing about the lonely desperate feelings. But you’ve always been there for me to reach out for help, though I find it the hardest to describe my feelings for you. Good or bad, I’ve always been in your maternal shadow. And what was hidden very deep inside wont wait anymore to be written.
Thanks for your silent shadow. Thanks for your healing voice. And thank you for the filthy, crowded and tragically beautiful world you brought me into.

Posted by Shervin at 05:53 PM

October 24, 2004

Canal Or Something

Looking at the tidy rows of books, he says "One day, we decide to pack all of these and drop all of them in a canal or something. And then say 'OK!Let's start over!'".

Posted by Shervin at 03:35 PM

October 22, 2004


Woke up early. Today is cloudy. That playful, semi-cloudy way of playing with the sunshine. No complaints! It's my day after all. No nagging for today. Keep listening to "Strangers When We Meet".

Posted by Shervin at 11:51 AM

August 31, 2004

Staying in the Shadow

Their ultimate goal was forgetting and getting forgotten. Through this masochistic act of sorrow they could get lost in the world and find a place, a room of their own, to build their Rick Blain Cafes, staying forever in their imaginary Casablanca and waiting for that very day to come and those who once left them behind find them by a blind chance of one in billions. A torture for the self to cause regret in their hearts.

Posted by Shervin at 11:21 PM

August 07, 2004


I see him coming out. I search my mind for the question. He passes me. I
run..."Hey...Hey...Tell me...what happens when they would have drinked all
night up to the last drop. What happens to four of them?...what happens to
that fast food store? what happens to daylight creeping over the kitchen
table....?". He is a few steps ahead. No answer. Just a glance from the
corner of his eye...I shout..."Hey, Ray!Answer me..."...He's gone...

Posted by Shervin at 05:24 AM

July 17, 2004


He is a sign, a sign for the blue people. You look at him as one big idol
of radicalism which is ruined by love. You drink all night. You
chain-smoke like a train. May be you wear white suit and keep your gaze on
something over far far nowhere horizons. You'd become HB, come out as one
little HB. You find yourself in him and his circumstances; "We've always
been to Casablanca, once.". Puff on your cigarette, drink your now warm
whiskey shot and whisper to yourself : "Of all the gin joints in all the
towns in all the world, she walks into mine."

Posted by Shervin at 06:55 PM

December 17, 2003


Last time I've seen him was in a deserted cafe in the middle of the city.
He has been traveling for a long time, a long distance - 800 km every week
- to take her hand for a while, say an hour or two at best. What he gets
was all that make things worst. He gets the sweet scents of her perfume in
those hours together and then when he becomes himself and alone again, he
would miss the real source of the scent; her body, her hands. Those are
the times when he smokes cigarettes like a train.
Late at night, sleepless by caffeine and nicotine, he would smell both
scent of nicotine and her scent on his hands, mixed, indistinguishable.
Her dislike of smoking, and his love for her makes a complex paradoxical
feeling inside him.
He should pay for love cause it would make you face to face with your real
self; a navigation into the filthiest and the most tender corners of ones
mind and soul.
I'm sorry for him. He is caught again on a crossfire.

Posted by Shervin at 07:19 PM

October 23, 2003


I'd come through the aeon mist, through the flesh and gore, through the
darkest days of all. Body would be no more than the most terrible
nightmare. I would walk all the days, through the smoke, the pixie dust
and the lies of the bodies. The prophets and the poets have lied, the
apocalypse was deep inside us. The torture inside, the fire inside. No
bless, No bless.
I walk the narrow, dusty path to my eternity. The eyes won't be enough to
believe how doomed the way can be. All through the way, I'm sleepwalking.
Waking from a nightmare and falling into another. The dirty world wouldn't
leave you all by yourself to stay aside and remain clean. The truth is
what the craziest says on how blessed a embrace of stone can be and how
heavenly can be to snuff your lover in bed. This was the way that the
darkests nights has fallen and all your protecting embraces have started
to decay under invisible, dirty touches of strangers.
I'm near the end, close to the brightest light. I'm not used to such a
light. Not used to this sorrowful, lovely sheltering psyche. I'm
deranged...But, I was born again today morning to look for something
special, something creative and new.
The most beloved! Excuse me if I'm deranged.

"Funny how secrets travel
I'd start to believe if I were to bleed
Thin skies, the man chains his hands held high
Cruise me blond
Cruise me babe
A blond belief beyond beyond beyond
No return No return

I'm deranged
Deranged my love
I'm deranged down down down
So cruise me babe cruise me baby

And the rain sets in
It's the angel-man
I'm deranged." (I'm Deranged, 1.Outside, David Bowie)

Posted by Shervin at 07:27 PM
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