And I Sit Here Without Identity: Faceless.

My Worst Habit Is My Fear & My Destructive Rationalizing.

The Woman Is Perfected. Her Dead Body Wears The Smile Of Accomplishment.

We Walk The Plank With Strangers.

You Are A Dream; I Hope I Never Meet You.

Perhaps Some Day I'll Crawl Back Home, Beaten, Defeated. But Not As Long As I Can Make Stories Out Of My Heartbreak, Beauty Out Of Sorrow.