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oh, how bitterhow bitter silentthe bewildered sorrowof a texture too thickto be brought outthrough the eyes.

Anna Jae
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and now i am back in the grey world where it tastes like plastic, the monotony is buzzing through my jaws and the boredom is pulling my hair.
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That throbbing thing in my chest can hardly be called a heart. It has been wrung out and deformed into something merely functional. Nothing can revive it.
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...ever plagued by the naive hope that this timemy intuition might be mistaken...
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she tries to envision spaceeven with her eyes open
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There’s always books. And the wind through trees.
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your facethrough the blurred visionof my disillusioned eyesmergeswith the rest of them.
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For the minority, what else is democracy than dictatorship?
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When I am awake, I sleep, but when I dream I come to life.
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