There Is A Time For Reciting Poems

We're Artists Too, But We Do A Good Job Hiding It, Don't We?

Reading Is Pleasure And Happiness To Be Alive Or Sadness To Be Alive And Above All It's Knowledge And Questions.

I Steal Into Their Dreams," He Said. "i Steal Into Their Most Shameful Thoughts, I'm In Every Shiver, Every Spasm Of Their Souls, I Steal Into Their Hearts, I Scrutinize Their Most Fundamental Beliefs, I Scan Their Irrational Impulses, Their Unspeakable Emotions, I Sleep In Their Lungs During The Summer And Their Muscles During The Winter, And All Of This I Do Without The Least Effort, Without Intending To, Without Asking Or Seeking It Out, Without Constraints, Driven Only By Love And Devotion.

I Kept Having Dreams All Night. I Thought They Were Touching Me With Their Fingers. But Dreams Don't Have Fingers, They Have Fists, So It Must Have Been Scorpions.

For A Moment The Two Of Them Looked At Each Other, Wordless, As If They Were Asleep And Their Dreams Had Converged On Common Ground, A Place Where Sound Was Alien.