Don’t worry if they say you’re crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. It’s a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.

Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.

And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...

I am stuffing your mouth with your promises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.

I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.

As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.

The sanest thing in this world is love.