The guardhouse of loneliness—
where the truth of oneself unfolds...

Truth is relative.
Trust is cosmetic...

He knew then in his heart he was a warrior
when there was nothing left in him...

Tonight I shall wake up
from the nightmare of this life...

When we kiss
we are the free agents...

Words are for when we disregard silence.
Writing is the tendency of the forgotten poetry to...

Just like tomorrow,
horizon keeps distance by...

I have seen THE horror
of where the truth...

_Why clarity reflect us perfectly?
_ Because we are picture perfect...

When was a question a question,
when was a clue...

The adamantine intent of a warrior
is...

The hourglass narrows—
time’s throat swallows lies...