I am still drawing back the bow
of the arrow...

Everything is packaged in the prison of time
until it grows soul...

I shall die when I clench or grit
in all these geometrical shapes...

Tell me something heartfelt and fair.
Tell me something kind...

She pours herself
like rain into absence...

This loneliness is
boundless because we all are...

An unbitten apple
is the apple that is dined by its own worms...

I am
a pendulum...

Why do measurements and sizes
graze only the surface...

There are no bite marks on his apple.
His toys are still in their boxes...

A dandelion was yielding to its yawn
on the fluffy mattress of sunshine...

Aha!
So this is the mediocre’s law...