How can you laugh when your mother's hungry? How can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
She's a warm fart at Christmas.
The sand-castle virtues are all swept away in the tidal destruction, the moral melee.
In the beginning Man created God: and in the image of Man created he him.
Her legs went on forever, like staring at infinity through a wisp of cotton panty along a skin of satin sea.
Snot is running down his nose, greasy fingers, smearing shabby clothes.