My Love is a Marionette

My love is a marionette. Dancing on threads that she never controls or owns and like blindfolds in darkness, that I never know. Life’s theatre of pleasure is a labyrinth of pain and were it not that we all refine in game and grammar such intricate strategies of haunted self-deception as pure aspirations to continuing […]


Caged Flowers Blossom

Flowers can never know that they must always be enslaved in a cage of their own entangled branches and upon encountering some other cruelty they ever assume it as their own; in this way chained dark and anxious sorrows masquerade as freedom while blossoms held in shadow might still sweet innocence bloom. It is we […]