Our world is moving backward,
fighting wars from in the past...

Pollen touches the tip of my nose,
legs weaken, testosterone flows...

I am going to paint a picture,
of what all of you would see...

Empty space inside of me,
a front that reads no vacancies...

Unrequited love,
reciprocated anger...

I wonder what Martin would think,
if he took a look at our generation...

Sunset,
Sensual And Relaxing...

Ground bound air born leaves,
falling angstly from the sky...

The tears that fall upon this page will no sooner...

A rubber coated metal bench
that stands up against the wall...

In the battle between heart and mind,
the winner's depicted by the man inside...

All you guys don't have to leave,
in time the site will be retrieved...