Took me over a year to write it, three months to edit by myself and two amazing editors and about 56 drafts or so later it is DONE.
I appreciate your support and hope you will read and like it.
Life invades your love and melts your gold heart and silver eyes into a single brick. You are golden not a stone.
You are a country, not an empire. You do not own the hearts of anybody else.
Jump off the face of the earth and you’ll end up on her feet.
Every person is a mirror for everybody else. Don’t reflect the world but have the world reflect you.
Our roots of our destiny grow into the tree of our life.
Dreams have expiry dates. Souls have name plates.
Curiosity is the scaffold of imagination.
Universe puts on the asteroid belt and Saturn’s ring.
Days are planes that crash in the waters of time.
When you slash your wrist, you are slashing the tires of your soul.
We are tenants in our own hearts.
Oppression has a face but no voice.
There are good parts of hell and bad parts of heaven.
We buy months in dozens.
Mine the depths of my life.
Your eyes are an airport.
Relive life vs unlive.
Cages live in birds. Houses live in people.
I am inside my skin but outside my soul.
Earth is a carousel and we are the workhorses.
She moved from the child-hood to the mother-hood and then back to the child-hood.
Yesterday sells roots Today sells compasses Tomorrow sells wings.
Death was a fisherman so God became a lifeguard.
The person who designed the city of youth built the city of death.
Souls mate then abort hate.
There’s an elevator to heaven from the top of the glass ceiling.
If you’re under the ceiling you have to take the stairs.
God and Death are film critics judging the movies of our lives.
They sleep through most of them.
Tone-deaf people aren’t color-blind.
Gender is a blender in the race-case.
Bread-winners make a dough using the bill-mill.
To open a heart you need to lock a mind.
Life is a metaphor but love is a simile.
Curiosity is a scaffold of imagination.
Everybody knows your heart is a blue house but show them the green room inside.
Nobody can live in your heart unless you live in your heart.
You are a tourist to earth.
Life now uses mind-light bulbs instead of heart-fires.
You make dreams on the can-pan or the will-grill.
They are clay but you are glue.
Growing up is leaving the city of youth.
She tried to open the door to life with the key to heaven and she found hell.
Moral compasses are attracted to hearts of gold.