The timbre of a crying dog burning in the...
unpleasant like unknown...

We photograph a flower
paint it, versify it, turn it to a piece of art...

- How far should I go before I arrive?
- All the way...

I did not just fall in love with you
I remembered you...

Death is what my hands are searching in my...
Death is a floating object...

I love all the curves of this world
But I rather to be straight like an arrow...

Diminishing in transcendence,
perpetuating in deficiencies...

I am happening
as I look at my watch...

These roads are eloquent
in every inarticulate turn...

Death is like a crack on the windshield of my car
I can see that crack's dissemination...

What have we become
how palpable...

Birds are as free as
they are trapped in between the...