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...

There is someone out there
who reads all my poems...

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...

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

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

I stood up against unjust
-not how a sitting man does...

Every light turns to darkness,
every sound to silence...

Time is spiral though
without history it is...