I love playing Chess.

A short, romantic poem.

Another old poem of mine about how people can be used like pawns.

If I’m spared not pain,
Grant me endurances….

A day in the life.

From start to finish.

From start to finish.

From start to finish.

I used to play allot of chess with my father, he passed away in march and this is dedicated to him.

My background, my past, and the present; everyone wonders why I have no future or they don’t care to wonder. Checkered Past… does it matter black or white, in living color; what I am is what I am and that is exactly what you don’t want ever.