When Santa comes to visit it,
the clouds up high begin to knit...

This sadness is the kind of sadness
found at the streets in my dreams - the type...

Outside the rustic porch,
near the stairs that bloom with magnolias...

teeth clenched tightly into skin
blood dripping from within...

darn
everyone wants the truth...

a flower
sprouts from roots...

touch me like water touches the skies
just like that...

Dark night
where the moon often hides amidst the clouds...

If possible, I'll be like a laptop, my Lord.
hold me in your hands...

a green frog
croaks to leap...

a toddler
rocks to sleep...

a mind so full of thoughts
has ventured into a road...