An anthology of new works that reflect events, opinions and sentiments from a fleeting and fatalistic moment in time - one that was both sensational and sorrowful in equal measure.
This period of the author’s life is now over, the chapter closed and boarded up. There is nothing to avenge, no scores to settle once wounds have healed. And upon further reflection, a good number of them turned out to be self-inflicted. This writer is of the firm belief that our tears become holy in the form of ink on a page.
Once we have spoken our saddest story, we can be free of it.
And then all that’s left behind is the tortured poetry.
I guess sometimes we all get just what we wanted, just what we wanted. And he never thinks of me except when I'm on TV. I guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted. And I never think of him...except on midnights like this.