Thief!- how did you crawl into, crawl down alone into the death I wanted so badly and for so long.

I am so imperfect, can you love me when really my soul is deformed? Will you love me anyhow?

We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!

Mood can be as important as sense.

Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.

Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin; it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.

The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.