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Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?

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beware women grownoldwho were neveranything butyoung

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no concept of danger, reality, flow or compassion. you can feel the despair escaping from their machines, their lives as hopeless and as numbed as you...more

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I am sick with caring.

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my poems are only bits of scratchingon the floor of acage.

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peace of mind and heartarriveswhen we accept what is:having beenborn into thisstrange lifewe must acceptthe wasted gamble of ourdaysand take some sati...more

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wesat theresmokingcigarettesat5in the morning.

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all theorieslike clichesshot to hell,all these small faceslooking upbeautiful and believing;I wish to weepbut sorrow isstupid.I wish to believe but be...more

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the best part waspulling down theshadesstuffing the doorbellwith ragsputting the phonein therefrigeratorand going to bedfor 3 or 4days. and the next b...more

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The ass is the face of the soul of sex.

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Why did I come here? I thought. Why is it always only a matter of choosing between something bad and something worse?

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If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.

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I do think that poetry is important though, if you don’t strive at it, if you don’t fill it full of stars and falseness.

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there are so many dayswhen living stops and pulls up and sitsand waits like a train on the rails.

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The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts while the stupid one are full of confidence".