there is a red sparrow tasting caramel pecans in the backyard while I lean against the kitchen counter reminding myself ‘your so passionate about submissiveness and dominance' (relevant volume of an alleged innumerable intact) that it’s another morning with a warm cup of coffee and by the time I arrive at the subway station, there is a man sitting on a bench painting temptation with blue, reds and purples whispering oblivion monsoons and real affection; yet there is a silence reverent to a ballad of praise; conjuring all of the autumn phases, but halfway through the night I could discuss about clinical studies with the bittersweet absence of an empty entrance “debilitated by spring roots"