Muse, To love or Hate

 The muse of my mine is a snarky bitch. She peeks in while I'm asleep and wraps me up in a vale of words. She leaves me drowning in my desires and scoffs when I ask for help. I'm left to fill the void with the creations of my own making and still, they are not enough. I race in the darkness to catch her and she flees like an untouchable shadow. When she's sure I've been taught a lesson, she reaches out and hands me a small note. Inside, a single sentence. I'm loaning this world to you. She is my muse. Coming and going as she pleases, never on command. Dam sometimes I hate that snarky bitch.     ...

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The Butcher's Man ~~A mini-series PT1~~

‘I dance with the devil in the silver light. On a duel sided blade I stand. I run like the wind in thedead of the night. You can’t catch me; I’m the butcher’s man.’ To look long into the abyss means the abyss will be the only place you can look out from. It will engulf the soul and erupt from with in at the same time. It waits patient, unwearied by the dying of the majestic moonlight that filled the sky once every month. The sound of a chopper rumbled in the distant, it carried a distinct noise, like an AK-47 firing round after round. A tall dark figure killed the engine on his motor cycle and pulled out his cross bow with silver tipped...

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