is like a small fish
keen to changes...

I can hear
the grating sound...

I think
if...

I
am not...

Somehow
in the silence...

... like a blanket
made from cotton...

Anger blooming
Behind my eyes...

Sometimes in the quiet
slither of evening...

Outside there's a dusty rain
and inside only golden shadows...

What happens to pain
that never dissolves...

I twirled
and twirled...

Abruptly
like a broken hasp...