That tree isn't lonely
because sun rays upon it...
There was no respite
from the repeated assaults...
And there she lay upon the hill
Her slope so green and thicker still...
Butterflies hover
over blooms while blooms hover...
A lesser person walks
in the dead man's street...
Your face becomes
an eye, a saga of...
It was a direct hit,
meeting an immaculate...
Talking to Morpheus
when moon was asleep...
A blighted ovum
demands a ransom for life...
Everything goes with
the flows, but the echo of...
Little leaves in those trees,
A mystical mystery to me...
Will I know you?
by unknowing myself in bleak...