This road will not take you to a theme.
In wind...
As innocent as buds of jasmine
twilight of a falling night...
Full moon was negating the intensity of night.
I wanted the sacred smell of dark heaven...
It was on. The heat!
When you could not tell the truth about yourself...
My nativity at peril
I wanted to stay away from myself...
Death was the beginning. My emancipation.
Death of pre-memory thoughts. I am ready to...
They will not allow the assisted suicide.
The beetles; fiery and drunk...
And now the pain wants me to speak,
the words, but I wanted to listen...
Nothing to look forward
I return my gifts today...
It was the hiatus
that underlying silence...
Distance was increasing
in spewing rage...
Sitting on the heap of debris
I decided to move one day...