Speckles of Time

I've realized one could compare me to a butterfly,  not cause of my social nature, rather the fact that if one tries to catch me, one ends up damaging my wings beyond repair, robbing me of not just my freedom and beauty, but life itself. It is better to just let me be, let me flutter my wings and admire them from afar. That is what love is.

It seems that giving myself a break for a month was in a way a good idea, but also a really bad one. Turns out I need to create to keep myself sane. So, here I am, back and with no agenda whatsoever, except to create, create, create and express whatever I'm feeling or thinking. Stay tuned for more lovely, dark, naughty, weird, or however you would describe it, word vomit I like to call poems.