Before the game of gamble, starts
it is already paid for...

Dark hair
white teeth...

All the truth
is hidden in the moments of a bird silence...

I am Poetry,
the first wound of silence...

Sometimes, in the getaway of how
You've become a hero...

I was invited to a painting class. I confessed I...
Those inflamed lights...

I apologise to the God of poetry
that I wasn’t writhing for the right reasons all...

O green goddess ,
who're dancing and ogling on the stage of wind...

They grieve their loved ones
to death then are the loudest...

The guardhouse of loneliness—
where the truth of oneself unfolds...

Truth is relative.
Trust is cosmetic...

He knew then in his heart he was a warrior
when there was nothing left in him...