You stare at the laundry,
touch the walls...

It's the last crumble of
summer. The quotidian...

I think you were the view.
You gave these heights...

Heading for the Southern Coast
to spend a day with family...

He grabbed his notes from
the underground, fingers brushing...

Imagine a crocodile,
atrociously, devouring...

I want to know all of the stars,
denote them with wishes only you...

I don't like myself that much.
162 centimeters of flaws...

all eyes were on
that sorceress wearing...

On the way back home, I crack
my memory open to rehearse the stories...

One day I'll wake up from
a deep sound sleep, stretch in my bed...

I wish my skin was a couple of
shades whiter, so you could sympathize...