People are laughing at me today for having holes in my pockets, and ink blood on my fingers- a thirty-something old writer, who strangles words from dictionaries, and feeds on the decay of poetry.

One can talk good and shower down roses, but it's the receiver that has to walk through the thorns, and all its false expectations.

When I awake thinking of dreams I slept on, I often wonder, if the dreams ever wake up thinking of me?

Love has no fear, willing to take on anyone. But how much we fear love!

They say, timing is everything. But then they say, there is never a perfect time for anything.

I can have patience for anything, but it's waiting for love, that kills me a little each day.

We watch the sky, we watch it alive and we watch it die, looking for signs. We live like wind, with hope in wings that we will get there, never sooner or never later, but at a right time.

True love takes time to find, but once it's found, the rest is eternal.