_To those who have a soul_
The shrine of loneliness musing...

Come to your true self
to defend truth and justice...

They make those fences
out of their fangs, the goads of...

Everything would end.
Why we are able to live...

Why must we always
put on an act in order...

Words are anxious and lost
before settling in meaning...

It was very musical though it was soundless.
everything in garden...

If I have been in your town
for some times...

These clock's hands
like the uneven oars of...

It is so undeniable that the older I get
the more time spreads on my skin...

I was lost in you
then I lost you...

O the tiniest flower!
lost in the vastness...