After all this time I can now sit an write
Forgetting my pass years of endless flights.
Desintations among the shadows,
Where images cannot Appear.
For some reason
I closed my self to this lonesome fog.
Making my ink
to stop.
My Agony becomes extensions of deadly Airs,
For dying leaves to settle in my grave.
My lonely nights
Are poems in a difficult times
Turning beautiful flowers to gloom
In cemeteries.
It appears me that I have open my self to a word of emptiness,
An rumours to me became a curtain for eyes to never see happiness.
As I say in between my words
An call out
"I feel Alone among millions"…..



                                                 ­          By  
                                                            ­    E.R.S