An itch on my nose.
Kinhin brezee rubs it gently.
Sangha F T W!

There's no greater pain

Than feeling loved and wanted

Then feeling that void

Tweet, tweet, tweet said I;
Smallish thoughts chirped to the world:
Birds do it better.

When and where I'll die
Is vastly less important
Than how I'll do it

Who asks "Who am I?"
Ever-flowing thoughts out of
A dry, empty well.