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the lies of centuries, the lies of love,the lies of Socrates and Blake and Christwill be your bedmates and tombstonesin a death that will never end.

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waitingin a life full of little storiesfor a death to come

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I'm not dead yet, just in a state of rapid decay, who isn't?

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I killed four flies while waiting. Damn, death was everywhere. Man, bird, beast, reptile, rodent, insect, fish didn't have a chance. The fix was in. I...more

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that's what kills a man: lack of change.

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La mayoría de la muerte de la gente es una farsa, no queda en ellos nada que pueda morir

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well, death says, as he walks by, I'm going to get you anyhow no matter what you've been: writer, cab-driver, pimp, butcher, sky-diver, I'm going to g...more

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The dead do not needaspirin orsorrow,I suppose.but they might needrain.not shoesbut a place towalk.not cigarettes,they tell us,but a place to burn.or ...more

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Finally there is nothing here for death to take away.

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I didn't know who tobelievebutone thing I doknow: when a man islivingmany claim relationshipsthat are hardlysoand after he dies, well,then it's everyb...more

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the world is better withoutthem.only the plants and the animals aretrue comrades.I drink to them and withthem.

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as the shadows assumeshapesI fight the slowretreatnowmy once-promisedwindlingdwindlingnowlighting new cigarettespouring moredrinksit has been a beauti...more

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I see a brightportionunder the overhead lightthat shades intodarknessand then into darkerdarknessand I can't see beyond that.

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when I drive the freeways I see the soul of humanity ofmy city and it's ugly, ugly, ugly: the living have choked theheartaway.

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the price of creationis nevertoo high.the price of livingwith other peoplealwaysis.