being alone never felt right. sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right.

my beerdrunk soul is sadder than all the dead christmas trees of the world.

Meanwhile the 3 a.m. drunks of the world would lay in their beds, trying in vain to sleep, and deserving that rest, if they could find it.

Dying should come easy: like a freight train you don't hear when your back is turned.

I am a series of small victories and large defeats and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here.

people are not good to each other. perhaps if they were our deaths would not be so sad.

Well, people got attatched. Once you cut the umbilical cord they attatched to the other things. Sight, sound, sex, money, mirages, mothers, masturbation, murder, and Monday morning hangovers.