The showcase of our lives is not made of glass:it is a nocturnal animal that swallows the dayand regurgitates it in distorted glimmers,it is a corridor of reflections where each shadow has a name,where each glimmer is a flaw,...

A poem I wrote.

  Touching the dark I move closer to youwicked indulgence, my craving for youa lusty desire to seduce.  Captivated, you look at me with hungerthe night is jealousand pushes shadows onto my soul, where you look deeplyand realize the demomess I amprovoking...

Sometimes, When it is late at night, You claw your way back into my mind. I am twenty three now, almost the age you were, when you sought me out. Even though i'd only just turned thirteen. I'm twenty...