Sometimes, upon waking, the residual dream can be more appealing that reality, and one is reluctant to give it up. For a while, you feel like a ghost -- Not fully materialized, and unable to manipulate your surroundings. Or else, it is the dream that haunts you. You wait with the promise of the next dream.

You have so many layers, that you can peel away a few, and everyone's so shocked or impressed that you're baring your soul, while to you it's nothing, because you know you've twenty more layers to go.

I love the sea because it is boundless.

Pressed against her I can hear eternity -- hollow, lonely spaces and currents that churn ceaselessly, and the fallen snow welcomes the falling snow with a whispered "Hush".

At night, lying on your back and staring at the falling snow, it's easy to imagine oneself soaring through the stars.

I was grateful for cereal --- the only food that my tummy, riddled by pangs of infatuation, could handle.

Maybe I'm sad about wanting you. I'm not too comfortable with wanting someone.