It's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse... no, it's the continuing series of small tragedies... not the death of his love but the shoelace that snaps with no time left.
we only asked for leopards to guard our thinning dreams.
I want so much that is not here and do not know where to go.
it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.
We are hardly ever as strong as that which we create.
I wasnโt going anywhere and neither was the rest of the world. We were all just hanging around waiting to die and meanwhile doing little things to fill the space. Some of use werenโt even doing little things. We were vegetables.