Some people say they love literature. But I am not one of them. I do not simply love literature, it is my life.
You know in perfection,
the movements,
the actions,
of things in existence;
...
Sleep has no use to me,
let dearth flow in the water,
suffuse the air with smog,
but do not take away your smile.
...
I love you like tissue,
removing dirt, absorbing
the wetness dripping
and excreting burying them within me.
...
Through punches of keys,
we have read each other.
Eyes,
touching through whispers,
...