The thought hits me sometimes
like a bolt from the blue, that...

Sometimes, I like you
with hazelnuts...

Look, the celsius degrees
are sneering at our thirst...

There will be no time
for packing luggage, weeping...

One day, I'll cross oceans
to see you again...

And then she sighs
and says in a shaking voice...

I've always been the first
to fall, and through my falling, others...

Imagine a crocodile,
atrociously, devouring...

The ground is shaking.
You’re holding up the wall...

This face reminds me
of murder, diarrhea...

Eyelids sag, fingers
let loose, bones...

There goes the alarm clock,
the disturbing buzz...