that poem which can only be painted not written on the page,that blue which reminds me of that…
I watch men wear the frailtyof my next thirty years,skin thin as rainbows,steps prescribed.
For them I am a tired housewife, who is in her bed lost in dreams.They don’t know…
Is there a term for that feeling — when you are drowning in your own sea of thoughts.
Illusions, shine, and heights.Depth, darkness, and respite.
Drifting on the currents
You are the flower now
The artist’s muse
Sunset over a God’s trident
Road to a temple
I found a way, the one that goes towards nothingness yet beautiful.
I do not write these words for youI write these words for meFor my healingFor my strengthFor my…