There was something about the way she danced...
in the low light of that Greece sunset...

He came
as an unexpected breeze...

I hear it rains diamonds
on Jupiter, so paint my vagabond soul...

I dream of a serene place
where the Earth's rotation slows...

I back-trace
the series of seemingly...

My writings have held
crooked verses recently...

There is a blaze
rumbling in my gut...

My breath escapes me once again,
watching his silhouette blaze as he...

Matador,
my horns...

He extracts the lust from my bones
to paint, to convey, each reason why...

Creativity and insanity go hand in hand,
an artist memorizing the number of wrinkles...

Winter,
the beast that drives me...