O father where have your fever gone?
Where have your wisdom gone...

We lost our genders to love.
We lost our voices to love...

The bouquet of wild white flowers
that I tendered you...

I feel like fatigue and somnolence are drifting me...
but I know I shall not succumb to this lethargy...

He noticed
nobody listens...

Everything ends
everything...

Just butterflies
could hover over flowers...

Dark hair
white teeth...

Life is in tears when you lose a friend,
like an empty path along the pine trees...

Alas my dear
I am still the Ozymandias...

All my ventures in the flesh of grapes
were because...

Imperfection is
the prove of perfection...