Snow is the stack of cards,
maybe aces who are looking...

I thought this poem would be about me,
typed up in a gloomy room where moonlight...

Days ago she had something to say;
now the toilet seat has become a comfort...

Scratched walls resemble the ocean
once tainted by a monsoon...

I've often wondered myself if sweetness
is the type of velvet voice that will fade...

Counting the number of fingers it takes
to hold you, meter and all, a ripple the wind...

Dear Father, I'm imagining myself anywhere but...
enveloping visions into my life that I will...

My locution -
ghosts of a garden...

Helpless yet striving to be held
within the palms of a man who...

Has anyone seen the legible clues,
read between the hands of time that our world...

The roads are drenched with too many wished
upon hearts, and my eyes resemble sewage from...

You and I are alike, we have a pulse trying
and footprints guiding us forward...