Ah men, why do you want all this attention? I can write poems for myself, make love to a doorknob if absolutely necessary. What do you have to offer me I can't find otherwise except humiliation? Which I no longer need.

Not real can tell us about real.

You hear doom and gloom about the Internet ruining young people's command of English - that's nonsense.

If all fossil fuel were to go POOF! tomorrow, the result would be a cataclysmic social upheaval, with food riots, warlords, shutdowns, breakdown of social order, water shortages, and outbreaks of bloodshed and disease.

I want everything back, the way it was. But there is no point to it, this wanting.

Although from you I far must roam, do not be broken hearted. We two, who in the souls are one, are never truly parted.

The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish drying on sand.