A medical Journal.

[Scitus]

Some Scribbles in the Margins.

We are fragile things, only a blink maybe two.

In time all that will remain.

Screaming phantoms.

How can something so great, look at something so small, and feel anything but pity.

I will not be pitied.

[Scitus]

"A Dream of Chains, and Mastery."

An unbroken line, between master and apprentice.

The dreams, held softly in my hand like precious jeweled eggs.

But where do my own begin?

But what dream can survive the dawn?


An unbroken mind, Inherits the future.

The dreams, ephemeral and constant.

But where does an unbroken chain lead?

But how can a dream remain carried if it remains untouched?


An unrelenting drive, to climb ever higher.

The dreams, I wish to make real.

But how can you soar without wings?

But how can you climb, bound in chains?

[Scitus]

Some Scribbles in the Margins.

Keep quiet sometimes, if she had any idea the times I bit my tongue. If she had any idea. How lowly she's fallen in my eyes.

She wouldn't care.

I hold your dream anyway.

[Scitus]

Some Scribbles in the Margins.

That look, those eyes.

After all I've given up, I've torn out the heart of ME.

I've played a tool, I've played a doll.

I've played the fool. I've played the faule.

There is only one thought which cascades through my mind.

HOW DARE SHE.

[Scitus]

Some Scribbles in the Margins.

How Close

How Close

How Close

How Close

How Close

How Close

I win.