I kept telling myself that all the women in the world weren´t whores, just mine.
The wisdom to quit is all we have left.
Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.
places to hunt places to hide are getting harder to find, and pet canaries and goldfish too, did you notice that?
I no longer want it all, just some comfort and some sex and some minor love.
I am this fiery snail crawling home.