Self-portrait of me by you
Phantom pregnancy
Language is a skin, I rub my language
And the night illuminated the night
The dream of the union forms another figure
Masculinitude
By weeping I want to impress someone
I see it in existence, not in essence
It's nothing for you to be someone's festivity
A very gentle glove
Only the lover and the child have a heavy heart
Desired without love, or loved without desire
It's true that this mute figure is an angel
The illusion of sentimentality
We are our own demons
To darken this darkness
I love you is not a sentence
Something which resembles fate