Only separated by true form, endless dreams play upon the norm. There's the shadowed lass, who dotes upon terror, though her time does pass. I'd like to know her, to let her in. There were passioned charges within and without. I need a little more security. I mean, sure she can come to my disoriented rescue, but before she was Queen, was she Doom?
And another entrant, she's the one I've coveted since day dawning. She remembers my name now, I hope, and has hopes that I'll stick to her original hope? Only time is the merchant of all.
Bring down truths upon
which we can judge the ruled,
Give them death from which to sup on,
Crushed under a Stone that's pulled by you, dear reader, tell the dream.
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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