The morning is alive outside While inside time future waits lan… For personality to take a side, The quiet expiration or a moving n… Which is gaining ground in the for…

All my grieving are my skins, Cameleon of beautiful leather. Oh my labyrinthine patterns, Old skins of detachment and furlou… Oh why I still have a room for yo…

People love being ordered, Presby… Glorified work of Protestants in… People are an interesting field of… Just maybe, cause... we are people… An alligator swings the Nile’s de…

Beyond some pain and distress Lies a world of unending sorrow So profound, So inlaid, it comes with music. One never gets accustomed

I’d like to see the birds in the g… After waking early or late, real o… When birdies were all over right o… And yet hummingbirds had their dri… Garden of another, erased from my…

I Think we should keep the answer as simple as the question. “The question, then: Is Schrödinger’s Cat meant to be taken at all physically?” No, that experiment, if practiced as describ...

Slumber, Sacred Goat, Satanism, Sacrifice to what we should be, So virtuoso as always was he, Plough, insensate, riding on stone… Parsimonious subject content with…

I recall some lullaby’s cadence I could one day remember some. For I, being heartless, was once… I heard my mother sing in/out of t… With moderate contempt, strangely…

Near the end of others are us In our saddle of distance or proxi… Near the vain end of animals we co… And continue to another rationaliz… Confrontation!

Somethings perceived you when you… Fact only reverberating in you so… To see the young girls of Maria M… Why don’t know from who are writin… But that Xangô says it is an impo…

Hoje ontem, na próxima semana Sim, absolutamente, se dana, Se deita na cama do gato sem o dev… People are strange Any door has know that for long

Why are there non Euclidean geome… Is as obvious as curved spaces, Waves, and ondulations of planes l… Tsunami and earthquake As Henry the fifth or alike,

All you had and cannot see, All they said you could be Down you meet the wild tide’s risi… At Mont Saint-Michel hell in no… Seagull lover, can you say: that’s…

Two roads in a Yellow wood, I have never decided, as I should Many roads as a man drive by Nothing palpable staying behind. Too many nights with a rat in my s…