I think maybe we die every day. Maybe we're born new each dawn, a little changed, a little further on our own road. When enough days stand between you and the person you were, you're strangers. Maybe that's what growing up is. Maybe I have grown up.

And when pain bites, men bargain. Boys too. We twist and turn, we plead and beg, we offer our tormentors what he wants so that the hurting will stop. And when there is no torturer to placate, no hooded man with hot irons and tongs, just a burn you can't escape, we bargain with God, or ourselves, depending on the size of our egos.

In the end it seems we're just toys,easy to break and hard to mend

I've always felt that the placement of a man's testicles is an eloquent argument against intelligent design.

You're a Good Little Slave

There is no sound more annoying than the chatter of a child, and none more sad than the silence they leave when they are gone.

Hate will keep you alive where love fails