...4-5-6: when time escapes the day in its most beautiful way. She starves for that beauty, she longs to quench her limitless thirst, but those moments are so fleeting and their limit is her unrest. Her bones are hollow and heavy as she takes a single step, and in that instant she is gone, blinded by the flash of a stray ray of light, her eyes close at that moment and stars flood her night. She falls forward slow, counting the half seconds of her descent. Her eyes stay closed, her thoughts are spent.

— Hubert Martin

Adventures kept hidden, words kept silent. You became my greatest secret. And when you left, no one knew the source of the pain I felt. No one knew you existed, except my writhing heart.

— Hubert Martin

All my past heartache and pain suddenly made sense. That was who I would not be to the person who deserves the best of me.

— Hubert Martin

And in my novels I live many lives. Substitutes of spontaneity to replace a dreary reality. How I live for those inky black words and kaleidoscope colored experiences.

— Hubert Martin

And once the ripples still and the water returns to its unwavering calm, even the pebble that broke its surface will be forgotten. And the world will go on.

— Hubert Martin

And they danced with laughter and tears. They swung each other round and round, the first and last time in years.

— Hubert Martin

And though they fell as ashes, their shadows drifted as leaves.

— Hubert Martin

An intricate string made up of infinite knots and curls. Taking a step back, it really did seem so fragile. As if the smallest breeze of opportunity would cause it to snap. It held strong though, fastened to me and you as a line of steel.

— Hubert Martin

An outline, my body, no mass or feeling, A dark reflection spread from floor to ceiling, The faceless copycat stalks me day after day, A personal eclipse of the sun never going astray, Each movement mine in a world of its own, Whispering shades unseen of a different home, A skewed yet comparable story occurs every day, Removed, though not far, less than halfway, The whiter the glow the blacker the stain, An ethereal cachet remaining midst the acidic rain, A trust and intimacy of a curious nature, I follow, it follows, we follow a stranger.

— Hubert Martin

Anyone who claims good or evil isn't one or either, they're just a liar... the worst kind of liar... the liar that doesn't even know they're lying. We're human. We're good during the day and evil at night, half the time those roles are reversed, that's what it's all about.

— Hubert Martin