When you draw, you copy the world don't you? You remake it on paper, but it isn't the same. It's yours. No one else could have created it just like that. When I make poems, I use the words we all use, but the order and the sound create a new power. This wood is someone's creation. We stumble through it's tendrils, as if we're crawling through the synapses of his mind.

He was her enemy, and she hated him because she could not hate him enough.

Underground, the stars are legend.

If it means my death, I don't care, because even death will be a sort of freedom.

Despair is deep. An abyss that swallows dreams. A wall at the world's end. Behind it I await death. Because all our work has come to this.

Because I have dreams and in those dreams I see the stars

It's safe to tell a secret to one, Risky to tell it to two. To tell it to three is thoughtless folly, Everyone else will know.