I'm sitting here, waiting, with no thought in my mind, no feeling to define, yet I want to write... & as words flow onto paper as water to the sea, all that really matters is the reflection it has upon me. & as I speak my mind silently and humbly to myself, I wonder if my words hold meaning, sentiment to anyone else. But yet in understanding of my solo fasion, it comforts me to know that I speak of my true passion. As time passes slowly or sometimes quickly it may seem, my writing seems to still reflect the object of my dreams. So maybe when I sit alone, & feel all that I am, deep inside I know wassup, so I speak it through my right hand...
							-I'm Still Here
				-A Sonnet -For you, baby -Purgatorial Dreams - The Zombies -The Hunt -The Waste Lands -My Corner -The Transition