I love you. You are closest to my heart, closer than any other human being. You are my extension. You are my prayer. You are my belief in God. For better or worse you inherit me.
That’s what I do: I make coffee and occasionally succumb to suicidal nihilism. But you shouldn’t worry — poetry is still first. Cigarettes and alcohol follow.
There is something better to be done than I have done, and spurred by the fair delusion of progress, I will seek to progress, to whip myself on, to more and more —to learning. Always.
It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn’t in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, a whole lot harder to get at.
Siouxsie and the Banshees - Halloween
carnivalemacabre asked: How much wood would chuck woolery chuck if ed wood could chuck berry?
That’s a difficult one, darling. I’m going to just say…3 litres. Liquid wood is a thing, you know.
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