It is so harsh and
unmusical for we can't...

Butterflies ensnared
in the crayon box beneath...

There are nothing but present,
and present is nothing but the accumulation of...

They don't mean their words
words for them are contests of...

The magic of flowers
is...

O look we are kissing butterflies!
O look our kisses are, a butterfly...

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

They do not give us ruler to draw the perfect...
We have to draw with our naked hands...

They do not give us ruler
to draw the perfect lines...

Always going
never arriving...

I see how fate
molds into...

Time stopped at the time of his death
His watch was dead...