To a muse

I'm feeling you deeply lately,
I don't know why,
But I guess the aesthetic locked unknown is copying your existence in my heart.
I don't belong to any philosophical school
But you know I am a very nihilistic man
And what is happening to conquer my solid brain?
I don't owe even my third eye
That can't see anything nowadays
Except for some nuggets of meaning.
I hope I can't send what I wrote.
I hope I can't be naked in front of your vision.
It's not metaphors I write,
Or it's not metaphors that haven't been deeply felt.
Now I want to dance
In front of you
In front of your khold eyelashes.
I know it's weird
But weirdness is the heart of people who are filled with unknowns.