Absolute
is the silence of a canvas...

They come in boxes
alluring, ribbon-tied...

Upon the perspective of the oppressive past,
the fragments of bygone prospects...

On ephemerals,
I snooze while two butterflies...

Effulgence
spawns on the transparent pons...

I know—
everything I see...

We built our coffin from the planks of our habits.
We have no choice but to be obedient to our death...

I dream of you
in the moan of violins...

You are incurable
Because you are your own disease...

The crucifixion of these geometrical shapes
in the air...

Do you remember our dawn
where awareness first...

In each other we
hide when each other isn't a...