Coffee with cream and early morning poetry really wake the sleeper inside.

I feel like typing rather like writing
Like the poets used to do
With a pen and paper
And in a room, isolated from the world.
Just me, getting lost within my thoughts.
That's fun.

There is no
magic
lurking in your speech-
but I'm devouring all
possibilities;
there is no
explanation
for how your words
affect me,
trap me,
coyly

use me.

(And I, don't always
want to find you
out).

So many poems fail to convince me of their emotions, I wonder why...

The only certain subject in this life is mathematics. Everything else, changes according to our times.

Things are hang !!
And we are able to know that hang ..

Today, it's a good day to write stories, though notebook, where are you? I miss you.

Another fun twist of language is that the Swedish word for "weird" could literally be translated as "artsy".

Silence speaks when words aren't loud enough

The reflection in which we need to see is the one that the world can do most good from