“The art of writing is not unlike the act of screaming. A constant flow of otherworldly emotions with tempos high and hymns low. All to amount to some purpose not so loudly spoken: the whisper of change the heart of… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“The man 'Jericho' wondered if the thing would get to the smoke it wanted. If it was as hungry as he was. Wondered if… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“As the man left and became gone the fault wailed after him, heartbroken. Yelling back at him all the ways he and it belonged… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“The art of writing is not unlike the act of screaming. A constant flow of otherworldly emotions with tempos high and hymns low. All… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“May the might be in the light, the beyond of east or west. As the faith lies within a broken bayonet, an ending put… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“As one door closes another opens some do say, but at times, when panic is born, all doors are blown asunder, hope driven all… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“This being the final say, tomorrow is thought about. The what of tomorrow, the who? The maybe, the if. Should it never come, none,… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“Walk me, foreign valley Hear us wail, know our call, Kill me, the troubled nomad, war torn and hungry Quell the sun and all… — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
“And with a new name came the ultimate alleviation of some gross unspoken responsiblity.” — Rosca Marx Copy Share Image
