Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren
... man is eating the earth up like a candy bar.
One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind
Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb, let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.
A woman who writes feels too much.