To Trap One's Self-suffering Is

I Hope The Exit Is Joyful And I Hope Never To Return.

I Paint Flowers To Prevent Them From Dying

Your Word Travels The Entirety Of Space And Reaches My Cells Which Are My Stars Then Goes To Yours Which Are My Light.

Can One Invent Verbs? I Want To Tell You One: I Sky You, So My Wings Extend So Large To Love You Without Measure.

They Thought I Was A Surrealist, But I Wasn't. I Never Painted Dreams. I Painted My Own Reality.