dizzy thought youwithin my horror you arealert, captivated and unseemly stirredmy dreams are at rapt attentioncompletely enthralled by your monsterdismal honesty my pale demeanor speaksit talks of black rain and sunsets of crimsonin the throes of anger you recognize...

He had always known that redemption would feel heavy, a sack of stones on his back, but he never knew it would feel this lonely. The world wanted to see the man who changed, not the one who was...

...a face of tragedy with a dark slate of mime once a canvas now a wandering soul of a ghost colder than a cask of teardrops aged in the dark's abyss hanging from the sinews of his eccentricity. Now...