We're reaching for death on the end of a candle We're trying for something that's already found us
We're reaching for death on the end of a candle
Actually I don't remember being born, it must have happened during one of my black outs.
She dances in a ring of fire and throws of the challenge with a shrug.
Do you know how pale & wanton thrillfulcomes death on a strange hourunannounced, unplanned forlike a scaring over-friendly guest you'vebrought to bedDeath makes angels of us all& gives us wingswhere w...
Whoever controls the media, controls the mind
This is the strangest life I've ever known.
Door of passage to the other side, the soul frees itself in stride.
Tell them you came, and saw, and lookedinto my eyes and saw the shadowof the guard receding.Thoughts in time and out of season,the hitchinker stood by the side of the roadand levelled his thumb in the...
Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virginWe could plan a murderOr start a religion.
I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft...
If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.
Give me songsto singand emerald dreamsto dream
Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through anyone that suits you.
The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask.
You feel your strength in the experience of pain.
Some of the worst mistakes of my life have been haircuts.
Love cannot save you from your own fate.
I am troubled, immeasurablyby your eyes. I am struck by the featherof your soft reply.The sound of glassspeaks quick, disdainand concealswhat your eyes fightto explain.
It's like gambling somehow. You go out for a night of drinking and you don't know where your going to end up the next day. It could work out good or it could be disastrous. It's like the throw of the...