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

Fire is flaring
and moths are exchanging their wings...

Tick-tock, tick-tock she tiptoe walked
towards my door...

Edited
How life and death...

There is a desert between our lips
that cannot be satiated by all the mirages of...

Between that time and this
there has been always now...

Space is the separation
from us...

Omnipresence is weaved
when the threads of time entwine...

He is so poor
He has nothing but honesty...

The nightmare
is that nobody is out there...

Do you remember
in cold winters...

Sunset, sunrise
an opulent pair of bloodshot cherries...