… and we are in bed together laughing and we don’t care about anything.

If you can only remain pure in your stupidity, someday you may get a phone call from hell.

Do some living and get yourself a typewriter.

whiskey makes the heart beat faster but it sure doesn't help the mind and isn't it funny how you can ache just from the deadly drone of existence?

I am this fiery snail crawling home.

And it seems people should not build houses anymore it seems people should stop working and sit in small rooms on second floors under electric lights without shades; it seems there is a lot to forget and a lot not to do and in drugstores, markets, bars, the people are tired, they do not want to move, and I stand there at night and look through this house and the house does not want to be built

you fall into the mirror, come through the other side staring at a lightbulb.