All of the stories of grim reapers, demons, shinigami, or gods of death are false. Angels are all that await humans in the end.
I have wanted to tear away my skin, cell by cell, for as long as I can remember.
People did not know when Old Peng started fortune telling at the stall in the market, but there he was, every morning, with four stools, a perpetual calendar, two pens, a compass, and a cup.
Each day one by one they inspect the grains
Every summer, I sit sautéing in coconut sunscreen beside Korinne at her pool, eating pink strawberries straight from the vine, drinking Fentimans Rose Lemonades with slices of lime until the sky swirls creamsicle.
The book on your shelf called Herbs of the Earth implies the existence of herbs of the sky, of the sea. Mars, Jupiter
Stand tall in a graveyard of dead wedding flowers and refuse to turn into a ghost.