DR. SER

Come cure my soul... Medicate me... Shatter the laws my superego tried to build around my freedom... You are the drug suspended between your God’s last breath and the one He fears to take. I am the pause where even divinity loses its memory. You are the hum that haunts the edges of creation after the world goes dim. I am the silence where your prayers fall apart. You are the pulse that trembles but never reaches the artery of your God. I am the absence folded between a thought and its first trembling syllable. You are the void your God slips behind when His light grows thin. I am the static that shivers before the divine dares to speak. You are the breath trapped in the throat of eternity. I am the quiet fracture in the voice of light. You’re Ser.. born when I almost died twice, So young and so old… The main sin Im willing to carry to afterlife.. You’re love itself, carved in Armenian. A word that heals and ruins with the same touch. You could cure me in seconds. You could destroy me in less. And I would let you. So come… Cure my soul... Love me in Armenian… An1, 2025