so much is forbidden.


our tango is over.


all this time i spent chasing ideals and ideas - futile?


I wonder. (as always.)


in my house there are many candles


every day, some go out and some are lighted


now it is time to smother all light


and hope that, in some corner, there remains a flame or two which may once again spark the roaring bonfire I have enjoyed.

One entire paragraph written before I erased it all, doubting the coherence of my words, and asked myself, are you drunk?


yes, perhaps;