Ship log, Alpha Centauries 3943 We have been on the run for seven cycles. The tracker ray is for life, it won’t wear off. We have out manoeuvred our pursuers, but every second I feel them draw near. Onue has found...

I love you… You don't love me… You will never love me… You will never love me again…   And again I hold your pictures… And again I dream of the old times… When our hands shared the other tenderly… When our lips were thawed of that...

as an unwitting participant in the undercurrent of darknessaffecting things great and smallmaneuvering the aether with a kissspiraling thoughts become worldsan act so small as a whisper can alter thingscause chaos in the grander scheme of thingsso I utter...

I cuddled up witha metaphor that wascaught in the corner ofmy room.I dressed it in thesilk of kings, and fedit from the fracturedtrees of innocence.Low-hanging fruit ofdespair gets usevery time.