A Literary Assault on the American Mind.

The for real, for real. I wake up each day. I wish i could have been. I was never the kind of person that admired the green grass of my neighbors yard. I looked over there, yeah, and constantly- but I wanted something dead and brown. To lay down in bed.

Whatever is on my mind. A Place to Call Home. A World of Make Believe. Knowing When to Let Go. I Am a Stray Part 1. I Am a Stray Part 2. I Am a Stray Pt 4. I Am A Stray Pt 5. I Am A Stray Pt 6. I Am a Stray Part 7.

First time I emphasized the band, not the story. Photo shooting for the next album. What happened the last six months? July 5, 2015. Dear lovers and dreamers,. As you already might know, I m back in studio to record the second Ewian album. I already posted some freeze frames from the upcoming.

Exposing the Contents of My Heart Through My Pen. One of my youth group kids. Sent me a text she said she was looking into college. But it was causing her stress. So she reached out to me. And asked what would be best. That it was one big test. And my heart began to break. But for her to be thinking of college. Warmed me down to my soul. Like the girl I know. She talks to me a lot.

On the Existence of Ghosts. The night my grandfather died. I was 3000 miles away,. But I felt his hand on my shoulder. When he told me goodbye in a dream. The voice of an extinguished ember,. Sings grief for the flame. Because its scent still lingers. Entire oceans drain away,. But there are still rivulets of sea foam and bones. The negative of where the shore used to be. There are only footprints now.

For the Love of It. Light, its friction,. How quickly has it had its day,. The fine idea, whose time has come,. When misdirection leads the way. And its potential is undone. How many messages are lost. In narrow frames of information,. Making truth and faith the cost. Messengers as beacons, thought.

The Elitist and a Proletariat. She was an Elitist, way off my league; I was no match to her. She was outside my comfort zone. The Elitist and a Proletariat.

No more fight left in me. 8230;how can a mother not see her child is in hell and is this. Hurting from the stress and anger.