Life has become like a fugu dish – Pushes you till you swell like a blowfish. Plays around with you like a skilled chef, every day on edge like dicing with death. Staying positive is quite the luxury. Its poison flows rapidly and violently….
in front of the fireplace I fall asleep and dream of snow that will come upon me
ink on paper, yellow lamplight glows above; light wind and stars
“Not enough hours in a day” – for slaving to the system? no, thank you, go away!
all day, all day long I wait for few minutes of romance to share… that someone wasn’t there…