When Every Inch Of The

I Spend My Time Dwelling On Revenge And Try To Deal With The Monsters Crawling Out Of The Ashes.

A Woman's Body Is The Gate To This Life. A Man's Body Is The Gate To The Next Life.

Old Love, Middle Love, The Kind Of Love That Knows Itself And Knows That Nothing Lasts, Is A Desperate Shared Wildness.

I Stood There In The Shadowed Doorway Thinking With My Tears. Yes, Tears Can Be Thoughts, Why Not?

Can You Stop Your Mother From Singing To You? Who Would Do Such A Thing?