To hide the head and handstand with many legs half open half retreated.

Waves. Dry air. I smell blood.

One day, a car may run into me.

For a man the best way to hide his weakness, is to raise his hand.

The fates. Recycled.

My son, see this.

I must wear it every day. I cannot let it go to waste. I earn it my way.

It's not mine. Not ours, us.

My inside is outside.

History teaches us to kneel in a circle. To dominance we offer the fire.

“Begone, the condemned! Begone!”

In the terror of remembering what we had been taught the hard way – it's kindly waiting.

In moonless night he can't see. Fear, unknown, he only tastes salt and tears.

I know i deserve it. I knew. I have always known.

Aren't they the most beautiful things in this world?

I’ll satellite, over the signals left unheard.