Even The Smallest Of Creatures Carries The

When The Superficial Wearies Me, It Wearies Me So Much That I Need An Abyss In Order To Rest.

My Truths Do Not Last Long In Me. Not As Long As Those That Are Not Mine.

When Everything Is Finished, The Mornings Are Sad.

I Stop Wanting What I Am Looking For, Looking For It.

No One Is A Light Unto Himself, Not Even The Sun.