a flower asked the sun, "shine for me like you always do, and everything's gonna be fine".
The sun, being a lover of the flower, obeyed. And He shined even through the night. The next day, the sun saw the flower dead. Too much killed her lover.

Too much is not enough. Maybe a little is.
Ive had enough.

" Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man."
- Friedrich Nietzsche

Pass Time.
No.
Time passes.

Most of my thoughts
are kept in shoeboxes.
Neatly folded.
Tucked.
Stapled.

Why think thoughts that have been thought of?
The art of association is simple.
It is deciphering dissocations that's complicated.

Dont think, i think.
I saw.
And then
there it was.

He was motionless
behind the windows
i hide myself,
i cover him bleakly
How can i move?
when he will no longer feel nor see.

Time is up.
Its been beyond
picking up pieces of broken glass
is easy when youve done it more than once.

Didnt you know
that your breath
is a mist in my pain?

Give it up.
Its moving.
Im moving.
Drifting away
like the leaves of a fallen day.