Shes my salvation. I burn shes water I suffocate shes air I can just imagine when I am one with her how light will flood my eyes how the night will part and let me out into the day. When I break her the light she has inside will come out like a seal breaks to reveal the hidden message and shell have to share that light with me. Ill be saved and shell be the one who falls. Ill burn her down Ill kill her and give her life again. Ill be true to her. Ill never leave her never.

Heres a glorious thought You dont have to settle. Ever. In life in love in your careerANYWHERE

Dreams and Happiness are...drugs. And the pain that follows is not less than a sharp knife...or a sharp-nail. It bleeds without blood. You just feel it. With every sense you have got on every single inch of earth in every tiny part of the minute you live. It compels you to feed...yourself...

Like a gift beautifully wrapped at the foot of your bed each morning today asks that you open it and enjoy everything inside. Exhaust yourself with all it has to offer

Theres something really cool about knowing that your destiny is SO big that youre not meant to share it with anyone. At least not yet.

She sleeps. And now she wakes each day a little less. And each day takes less and less nourishment as if grudging the least moment of wakefulness for from the movement under her eyelids and the somnolent gestures of her hands and feet it seems as if her dreams grow more urgent and intense as if the life she lives in the closed world of dreams is now about to possess her utterly as if her small increasingly reluctant wakenings were an interpretation of some more vital existence so she is loath to spend even those necessary moments of wakefulness with us wakings strange as her sleepings. Her marvellous fate - a sleep more lifelike than the living a dream which consumes the world.

They say Alexander the Great slept with The Iliad beneath his pillow. Though I have never led an army I am a wanderer. During the waning moon I cradle Homers Odyssey as if it were the sweet body of a woman.

Who am I Im just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure I sink the boat of love but that comes later. And yes I swallow glass but that comes later.

Someone smashed a flutterfler and without even thinking she touched her Stone and used Wyrd to piece its broken body back together. She filled its empty vessels with dreams and it became the stuff it used for blood. It brushed her cheek with its wings then flew off -- dancing in the hot air.

You he says before the door closes all the way. I often dream of you.