by e.e. cummings somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will...

Your Smile is the only Light that travels through this Dark Corner of the Sky and You are Lost to see that my Fingers are reduced to a Song only You can bring Me to write. My Joyful Sighs come too many along with the possibilities I want...

I am tired of shadows that kill my light Of mouths that wish I have happiness but will not look at my suffering And of mouths, still, that want I equal greatness but will not hear my cries. I can't remember the last time I do not hate. HATE, I want...

i can no longer look into your eyes they summon me to a place- not now, please... ...and yet i will try not to avoid your stares- but how much they weaken and build me, all at the same time. *** (heheheh, nuay ya gad yo cosa para basya...

The ocean. Filled with whispering waves. Calm. From some distance. Pebbles. Whipped... with perpetual undulation. The ocean, the pebbles. One. Only Until. Another land separates them. I am now The Ocean Filled with whispers scarcely...