I woke to where you fell asleep  on asphalt crumbled unfulfilled.  I walked the confines of that street,  my hands familiar with the wheel,  my ears familiar with the roar  of engine grinding piston speak,  the sounds before the...

Beneath the iron skies they stand with blood-stained hands and shifting sand. A truth etched deep within their gaze, forgiveness is not the warrior's praise. Their blades sing songs of darkened lore, each stroke a vow, each fight a roar....

her friends tried to warn her they said he's no good the stories they tell   paint a picture of fire and brimstone   but the way he speaks is oh so sweet they would talk for hours they...