I Have A Hole Where My Heart

Love Is Poison. A Sweet Poison, Yes, But It Will Kill You All The Same.

If Ice Can Burn, Then Love And Hate Can Mate.

'dreamsongs' Allows Me To Show The Scope Of My Writing - With Personal Commentary That Puts The Works In Context And Includes Some Autobiographical Details Intended To Reveal How Each Piece Came To Be, What It Represents, And How It Has Formed, Or Been Informed By, My Philosophy Of Writing.

Sorcery Is The Sauce Fools Spoon Over Failure To Hide The Flavor Of Their Own Incompetence.

But The Real Enemy Is The Cold. It Steals Up On You Quieter Than Will, And At First You Shiver And Your Teeth Chatter And You Stamp Your Feet And Dream Of Mulled Wine And Nice Hot Fires. It Burns, It Does. Nothing Burns Like The Cold. But Only For A While. Then It Gets Inside You And Starts To Fill You Up, And After A While You Don't Have The Strength To Fight It. It's Easier Just To Sit Down Ot Go To Sleep. They Say You Don't Feel Any Pain Toward The End. First You Go Weak And Drowsy, And Everything Starts To Fade, And Then It's Like Sinking Into A Sea Of Warm Milk. Peaceful, Like.