Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.
Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.
By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.
Come on, you Do you want to live forever?
I cried over beautiful things, knowing no beautiful thing lasts.