Am I a gem wrapped in cotton balls,
or a worm, inside the flesh of an apple...

They border us to make us fight.
When we are separated...

You looked at my skin and said:
you are not bleeding enough...

Beneath a flower
is a vase, is a flower garden...

My soul is so tempered and tamed
in that temple of a little bloom...

A mid-phase moon
is a sand machine...

With you I'm begun,
no more a phantom...

I feel like fatigue and somnolence are drifting me...
but I know I shall not succumb to this lethargy...

He noticed
nobody listens...

Everything ends
everything...

Just butterflies
could hover over flowers...

Dark hair
white teeth...