Hand-knitted dreams
are what I get...

The horizon
painted loneliness...

I do not deserve
to be in anyone's life...

In you, I have found dandelions
a multitude of times...

I am seeing this man lately
and it isn't even the 16th century...

Was it you last night?
Like a recurring dream...

A black and white
photo of...

Reveries are too sad to hide beneath your skies,
melancholies are too fragile to hear your cries...

Your whispers are like
a Rastafarian flower...

Have you grown fond of times like this?
When the twilight is soulful...

You are an
old Philippine map...

And here I am again
getting up from bed...