Sometimes it’s best to shut the fuck up.
…it’s much less stressful to tie a string around that spotlight and tug a little to make sure you never quite leave its warmth.
…the anger has cooled, the hatred is gone, leaving in its wake a small pool of pity.
I bet you thought it would be different, being human.
…sharp teeth of an angel.
Poetry is only a moment.
Love with a whole heart, or not at all — not even a little.
I write what I feel, and I let it go.
It’d be far more interesting to kick someone in the knee, watch them drop, and then use your own knee to bludgeon their nose further into their face.
We point at the path of sticky entrails and we blame you.