The primal urge to undo-
your hair. I am going...

After land slips it was
most surreal scene. Cadaveric...

A wax house you were
gifted to live in sun...

Imperfect mating.
I am lurching forward...

Writing your own elegy in a
blocked artery...

Your hands tremble,
when you accept...

It takes billions of years
for ancient light to reach us and...

I am not going to touch
the meaning...

The fat moon
rises, when the bland earth...

I hear again your voice
after injury pause...

Skin deep, the moon
goes with me...

To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god...