The poetry of light and darkness.
The pain of being something you are not & being what you are.
Plain, bloody, consuming, lethal magnificent life.
My own past.
Not in years... but in agony.
Gothic and sometimes beautiful.
Always beating with a heart that is partly my own.
Stay a while and enter my world.
Search This Blog
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The only thing I hear
Is the pounding of beating burning hearts
Lose me in the red.