Heavy grief strikes and bears a Soul found stagnant, starving, and stiff. If imbued with form a reflection of rotted wood would fill your eyes to their edges. Search for meaning in the murk swallow an ocean of tears if you must. It’s simple to hallow yourself void of feeling although to be better than the days passed is nearly insurmountable, yet on the morning that you passed I swore myself to my own betterment. I will plant myself firm as you had many times. In honor of you I will live.

Obismal depths of dark matter swirling endlessly, heavy and cold. Great chasms between us bottomless and deep. Lose yourself, unravel, become whole. Ageless and undying shed your purposeless skin become new. Hateful now, a grimace moves in replacing loving gleams. Last tears fall search yourself, reflect, and learn.

Oh enter me fearless lover!! Enter me as a corpse would a tomb! Wither and wilt to dust as those before you have done! Take upon my fate and if you should fail perhaps I'll join you in that flesh casket and we'll sail it across river Styx! For you too are ******…are you not?

I am the prodigal son! He who was lost in the spiteful world of literature. I the prodigal son who stands firm with Aergia as my left hand and Algea as my right. I the prodigal son who stands tall with Baudelaire as my back bone for melancholy and misery have become my mistresses. I the prodigal son have returned, oh father forgive me and turn away in horror for I am your son no longer.

Perfection is boring I prefer a crooked smile to a plastic one. If perfection is in sight change course immediately or fall victim to purity!

Insanity is the first step to greatness.

The dead do not speak yet here we stand spitting out dull and empty words to dull heads and empty hearts. I refuse to call this monotonous pattern living. Look around and see all the dead walking among you.