“...and the smoke that creeps off the tip of my cigarette and into the dim, scattered strands of light leaking off the moon, in through the clefts in the curtains, is much like my spirit trying to escape the burn of yesterday's presence.”

“The pen to a writer is like a cigarette to a smoker; they need it to take the edge off.”

“The train blows through towndelivering reality,slapping my face and screaming,“You are alone”Rose colored memories drown,taking their last breath.”

“Hold love like a butterfly, with gentle preservation. Hold life like the reigns of a wild stallion, with fierce assertion. Encompass that, and you find the nectar of the immortal spirit.”

“...what happens when you returnand find nothingbut a hollowed shell,shingles and floor,walls and echoesand the light that lead you herehas now burned outand the ones who built ithave traveled afarand you cant go to them,no matter what shoes you wear.”

“Winter is much like unrequited love; cold and merciless.”

“I don't want someone to believe my lies, I need someone to accept my truths.”