WolfPoet69

A sick man's story (dramatization) Time: Unknown. It's dark save for the covered floor torch and the mystic cube. I sit fidgeting with a white, frail, disposable cloth trying desperately to contain the leaking contamination from my nostrils. After partially choking on the blasted specter-like rag due to the Elder's quick passing by my cave entrance I am buffeted from the ferocity of an uncontrollable fit of violent coughs. After the coughing ceases and the waves of pain in my throat give out I am hit with yet another sensation... Hunger. Weak as I am, I judge my strength and try to calculate if I can make the great distance to the den of fe

I postulate that an individual either losses objectivity or observes a different side of a personsons personality. This is possibly due to the addition of intamacy into a relationship. A level of attachment or personal involvement may cause a failure to remain objective and make perceptive observations or the behavior of the observed may change toward the observing indavidual because of the clossness itself. In either case, once at this point communication becomes key to the success and functionality of the relationship. Even when one or both partners understand the chemistry behind the infatuation it becomes impossible to maintain the ab

My soul is payment for hearts given to me. I am a destroyer. Hearts broken, crushed. Their words are hammers ringing my head like a bell. The words echo in the emptiness of my heart. Festering in the void. Violence grows in the depths of a seething hollow heart. Words like hammers destroyed the hearts that sewed the seeds in hatreds garden. My heart, their hearts. Words like hammers smashed them all. Pieces lost to the sea of tears. My body aches, my mind  breeds fearsom thoughts. My soul was payment for the hearts I stole. Gone, gone away like dust. Lovers breath blows away the ashes. Soft and hot only rememberd through veils