Victor was the first to speak, and when he did, it was with an eloquence and composure perfectly befitting the situation

I am constantly torn between the will to be seen and still hidden so god damn well, a contradiction I never figured out.

A man cannot impart the true feeling of things to others unless he himself has experienced what he is trying to tell of.

A prose that is altogether alive demands something of the reader that the ordinary novel reader is not prepared to give.

I just wish you could see my demons for what they are, and lay here beside me on the floor. No words. Just your presence.

I gripped against her like she was metal and I was all full of lightning, charged up and jagged and of that moment alone.

Ode to the Chamber...linger here amidst the chamberin which we embrace our lovetalk to me of sonnetsand call me turtledove...

Despite my affection for subtext and plot and prose at its best... life, it turns out, is nothing more than the finer details.

Pour Into My Spirit...spread your arms around meconsole me and keep me close -wield your mighty swordto vanquish all my foes...

As his dark closet shows, Bluebeard was a collector at heart, and even after dispatching a wife, could not let her fully depart.

Do You BelieveDo you believethat I have loved yousince the dawn of time?Do you believethat we were destinedto be intertwined?...

...unquestioning automatonsblindly marching to the beat -an eerie crunching soundhoards of shuffling feet...(from silent moments)

Bring Down The WallsI will bring down the wallsthat surround me today.I will no longer be kept quietMeek enough to drown today....

I haven’t been very impressed lately.By people,or places,or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.

The scrape and snap of Keds on loose alley pebbles seems to catapult their voices high into the moist March air blue above the wires.