To touch and have the power to transform
that which I touched into fresh water...

Inside of this huge mug I call my world
I am the size of a small bug...

Oh!
The sky is grey and the grass is red...

Who am I but some matter
that matters not in the entire universe...

Something is Off and it’s not the light.
The room is illuminated...

I try to stretch my thoughts
like mozzarella in a grill...

Where has my imagination gone?
It used to be like bees...

I want be the search engine
where you could search everything you need...

Shoot.
The sky is purple. Tints of reds and blues...

If only I could write a sonnet, sigh
perhaps, my thoughts could get well organized...

In the roots,
I find my past feeding from the present...

I never wanted to be the sun
but surely enough...