He rattles my soul, through out the shrill nights. Chewing, chomping; his memory gnawing me down to size...

I’ll create or I’ll destroy; it can’t matter much anymore. I’ll scream away the vengeance I need; if it means I even the score. I swallow drugs and whiskey, with the contempt in my heart. Sweet midnight dreams of me to thee; as I rip your throat apart. Oh, how the skies sing in a brand new red. Blood curling my toes and skin, over and over again. I finally felt as much as I saw. As my bitter soul began to crawl. For the science of silence begets the emotion of violence. So I’ll destroy or I’ll create. Those midnight dreams, will be my only mistake...

-HMG