We fear the death's pain
otherwise we never could...
Surfaces appear
in the daylight but insides...
Truth is relative.
Trust is cosmetic...
She was passing coastlessly across the coasts
when I saw her...
How imprisoning
our liberty seems when we've...
Give chance to healing
not to the wound, by being...
Was it always this way,
or just my oblivion was the sleigh...
My poetry is not poetry really,
if poetry is doomed...
In the darkness,
all the inks in the world...
Whenever
we are losing...
Nurses see only
old lesions but for patients...
In the night all the
inks of the world can not shield...