It Takes Years To Build Up, It

All Imperfections Are Forced Upon The Imperfect, So The 'perfect' Can Live Content And Oblivious.

But The Silence Spoke Volumes.

When I Start To Write, I Don't Have Any Plan At All. I Just Wait For The Story To Come.

I Was Reduced To Pure Concept. My Flesh Had Dissolved; My Form Had Dissipated. I Floated In Space. Liberated Of My Corporeal Being, But Without Dispensation To Go Anywhere Else.i Was Adrift In The Void. Somewhere Across The Fine Line Separating Nightmare From Reality.

That Was The Rule. Break One Of My Rules Once, And I’m Bound To Break Many More.