Let our scars fall in love.
The first step... shall be to lose the way.
Is there a mechanism of death, that so mutilates existence no one, gets over it not even the dead?
Prose is walking; poetry is flying
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.
Turn on the dream you lived through the unwavering gaze. It is as you thought: the living burn. In the floating days may you discover grace.