If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.

I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on top of the beer can

Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh has gone through; I dream of what it may go through.

Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I may never be happy, but tonight I am content.

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell.

My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.