No one is behind these closed doors.
There are no birthday parties...

The nature of time:
One day we all are going...

Everything is packaged in the prison of time
until it grows soul...

Look
how inflated I am...

Tell me something heartfelt and fair.
Tell me something kind...

If you crucify him again,
what will be your excuse...

Where everything is versified to be uttered
and sublime is not external and pretended...

He declaimed so loud
yet silence, was amplified...

Everything is running,
seemingly towards somewhere...

Are the trees just acting out their loneliness,
their separation from the fire...

There are no bite marks on his apple.
His toys are still in their boxes...

Unripe grapes ripe in my mouth
when you kiss me...