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.

Drink from the well of yourself and begin again.

love iz a big fat turkey and every day iz thanksgiving

The whole LSD, STP, marijuana, heroin, hashish, prescription cough medicine crowd suffers from the "Watchtower" itch: you gotta be with us, man, or you're out, you're dead. This pitch is a continual and seeming MUST with those who use the stuff. It's no wonder they keep getting busted.

there's no clarity. there was never meant to be clarity.

Love breaks my bones and I laugh

The worst thing for a writer is to know another writer, and worse than that, to know a number of other writers. Like flies on the same turd.