We would never become a set of wings,
if we do not tear from...

Getting all ever
I needed, realizing...

Life has taught me that
nothing is tactile unless...

Is it schizophrenia,
knowing that everyone knows everything...

You have lost me
your true-born so...

The road-end, flees like horizons
holding on to their distances...

They were lifeless before they could meet,
like the ingredients in the ocean...

I shun all stain, all mark of mortal dust,
Except the trace that bears the sign of you...

This loneliness is
so boundless because we're all...

We float in present
spreading in past...

Days and they are gone
but his deeds remain, indeed...

_Why does the dead fish still poke on the unbitten...
years after, where the bait and the fish himself...