To truly understand poetry one must understand themselves from within one’s self.

Time slips by; our sorrows do not turn into poems,And what is invisible stays that way.

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

Humans will never be in charge of this world, as long as dust and weeds do as they please.

Steep fall to the groundshatteringlike clay pigeons missed by bad shotsand unsteady hands.

I build boxesand place them at your feet,to measure the distance between dreams and reality.

El sabor del olvido destilado sabe a ti. Y yo lo mezclo con whisky. Sobre una base de cerveza.

i am like a dead begoniahanging upside down because like a dead begonia I don't give a fuck

I waited for the seasons of love to pass from this cold winter to the summer heat I dreamed of.

Great writers experience their dreams. They put them on paper, where others can read about them.

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

So, the world happens twice--once what we see it as;second it legends itselfdeep, the way it is.

Where Do You Show Up to Share What You Have to Offer?When You Love What You Do-You Share It Daily

I've never seen beauty so devastatingas in the linesthat trace our hopeand fall from the stars.

Come le donne le foglie si scambianoconfidenze acute.A volte sono cenni, a volteillazioni portentose.