Love without bet is deliverance of ownership imagination .
Brackish of my lips waiting freshness yours . . .
become rain
What ever cant dance on furoow of lips
Burn the depth of soul…
crystian boyn
The hursh tune of life is just for dancing not running
Very old , So young
Black & white
Imagin himself arrived
on vain air
the old ladder
Fallen , Drunked
in the same point of time and place
limited at the end of existence
Imaginative body of light
Astonished
around unknown pivot
on lost ordinates