The trouble with these people is that their cities have never been bombed and their mothers have never been told to shut up.

If I have any advice to anybody it's this: take up watercolor painting.

I'm going, she said. I love you but you're crazy, you're doomed.

Of course, there would always be arguments. That is the nature of Woman. They like the mutual exchange of dirty laundry, a bit of screaming, a bit of dramatics. Then an exchange of vows.

I held her wrists and then I got it through the eyes: hatred, centuries deep and true. I was wrong and graceless and sick. all the things I had learned had been wasted. there was no creature living as foul as I and all my poems were false.

You just rebel against everything. How are you going to survive? I don't know. I'm already tired.

as the shadows assume shapes I fight the slow retreat now my once-promise dwindling dwindling now lighting new cigarettes pouring more drinks it has been a beautiful fight still is.