We are going to fight. We are going to be hurt. And in the end, we will stand.

I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright.

My childhood was pretty ordinary, except from a very early age, I wanted to be scared. I just did. I was scared afterwards. I wanted a light on, because I was afraid that there was something in the closet. My imagination was very active, even at a young age.

Love isn't soft, like the poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.

As for the end of the universe…I say let it come as it will, in ice, fire, or darkness. What did the universe ever do for me that I should mind its welfare?

The only [working] ritual is making tea. I use the loose leaves and drink it by the gallon.

Dead fields under a November sky, scattered rose petals brown and turning up at the edges, empty pools scummed with algae, rot, decomposition, dust.