Beneath a flower
is a vase, is a flower garden...

Heart is now,
tick tack pulsating...

How my soul could learn
right from wrong if it isn't me...

Bigger than ever,
yet smaller than a moment...

Unable to see the derision
of themselves...

Whatever we decide and do
forever would change and alter the world...

Suture up your wounds
for the pain to stop feeding from your neglect...

Each figure is silence
shrivelled...

To My Uncle
Time stopped...

Whatever to others we do,
whether in the scale of “so many” or a...

I dream of you
in jazz...

I cannot identify with these objects any longer.
They are not what my past indicated them to be...