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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are somebody
when you learn...

O my beautiful butterfly
you are not so beautiful after all...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

I dream of you
in jazz...

Others
Bridge us back to ourselves...