There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock.
The history of melancholia includes all of us.
One can never be sure whether it’s good poetry or bad acid.
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
You boys can keep your virgins give me hot old women in high heels with asses that forgot to get old.
We know God is dead, they’ve told us, but listening to you I wasn’t sure.
There is always one woman to save you from another and as that woman saves you she makes ready to destroy.
People are not good to each other. Perhaps if they were our deaths would not be so sad.
In this land some of us f*** more than we die but most of us die better than we f***.
