Solve lora infernis, et futue te ipsum.

I have a growing distaste for the "artistic" elite. My specific instances of late are writers, but I'm sure the incidences th...

What to do in those few hours before waking. What to fill the half sleeping mind with. In those brief moments where the last fingers of sl...

Words cannot describe how much I need to smoke. It is the first time that the slimy fangs of addiction unfurling themselves. Granted, t...

So, I had one of those late night, passion fueled ideas for a story, then the moment passed and the groove was gone. I did squeeze out a pa...

Sweet Antebellum. Putting aside all of the rampant racism and slavery, the time itself was a simple one. It embodied the American standard...

The music pours from my fingertips. They swoon and sway to the rhythm of my mind. The lights are bright and the room hot. Sweat from ever...

The Itch When cold, His is the Blanket offered. When tired, His is the Bed supplied. When deaf, His is the Voice all heard. When pained, His...