Everyone's work is equally important.
What urge will save us now that sex won't?
The desperate things seem to require attention, the lovely things seem to elicit celebration. If I had to choose, I would go to the awful in the hope that doing something could yield a happier result.
I try to excite myself so I stay crazy.
It can be kind of gruesome at times, making things alone.
The most profound things are inexpressible.