That, I realized, is the great beauty of dreams: the devil may inevitably find a way to jerk you off, but you can always wake up before he makes you cum.
He was about to find out that when you open a door with a psychiatrist’s name on it, you’d better be prepared to witness exactly how fucked up your life has become.
I sleep on a tar roof scream my songs into lazy floods of stars…a white powder paddles through blood and heart and the returns pure and easy…This city is on my side.
It was in Central Park near the lake and I watched a weeping willow turn into a giant rooster and fly off. No tree remained. It glided beautifully into the sky, a big blue barnyard. My mind went with...
I'm just really a wise ass kid getting wiser and I'm going to get even somehow for your dumb hatreds and all them war baby dreams you left in my scarred bed with dreams of bombs falling above that cli...
I think of poetry and how I see it as just a raw block of stone ready to be shaped, that way words are never a horrible limit to me, just tools to shape.
All right buddah gets a backstage pass but all his friends have to pay
To sit in this awful mess and maybe smoke some dope and watch some innocuous shit on a dumb glass tube and feel fine about it and know there's really nothing you have to do, ever, but feel your warm f...
You see, you just don't know
I want to talk. I talk to everybody, and it pisses me off when they interpret to talk back. I sometimes think of offering money to friends to buy their turn in a conversation.