Someday, I'll be like a volcano
underneath the sea...

You are too young and too much of an amateur
to be looking for clues where there are none...

It's been a while since I wrote like I usually do
without paying attention to meter or rhymes...

Within a privacy of a room, with curtains closed,
and a dim light, a wife politely asked her...

Me wonders how the years
have been flying with no wings...

A mighty sword of steel
swashed on air...

I thought my thoughts were clear
like rivers flowing with streams...

I met you in a crowded room,
as crowded as the closet in my bedroom...

In the kitchen-
Fingertips trace ashes splattered over counters...

There's no quietude
everywhere I turn to...

Dear reader,
eons ago, I used to sing...

Solitude,
you visited my life in my gloomy times...