Respect is not a one way street

My love is a thousand French poets puking black blood on your Cure CD collection.

If I had to perform in a comedy club I would bomb; I would be trying too hard.

I want a soul mate who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow. I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth. I will do your windows. I will care about your feelings. Just have something in there.

When she comes She pulls you close She breathes in short bursts Her eyes close Her head tilts back Her mouth opens slightly Her thighs turn to steel, and then melt She is perfect And you feel like you are everything.

You can still function as a living ruin.

America is a country born from semi-mythologized blood, glory and acts of selfless patriotic sacrifice.