“In my dreams we got past the parking lot; you took me past the old, oak door, led me up onto the vacant altar, and offered me to every god whose name you invoked as you worshipped my body.”

Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.

I don’t know how to put my love down, or to keep holding too much of it.

Your darkness does not scare me, nor will I run from you; like a star, I’m falling for the phases of your moon.

We usually seek the divine in the sky, But religion is best found on the ground. Nature is our true creator.

When I was a child, I used to fear monsters under the bed. I have since learned that most monsters are found within. And they are always worth fighting.

I pressed the dress to my nose, and found what was left of your ghost. It was then that I remembered how to cry.

To the oppressed with no seat on the table; dreaming of change and better days, I will pull up a chair, and light fires in your name.

I was looking for you in all the places our love used to be. When all along I should have been looking for me.

Some days, my mind will still be in prison, but I will live in spite of it. I unlearn how to swim; I trade my gills for lungs and wings.

I would throw down roots with you if I ever had the chance. We’d grow strong in tender shoots, and bloom in burning hands.

Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.

The glint of mischief in your eyes is the flint in my matchstick. Striking; always this close to igniting.

The search for external sources is nothing compared to internal forces.

Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.

Emotion = Energy in motion.

In my dreams you conjure me like a spell in the night. Let us haunt one another with uneasy peace, and die burning alive.

I’ve still got both kidneys, but one doesn’t work, so I have to be careful not to drink too much, even water, and I have to keep myself as healthy as possible.

I just try to keep healthy more so than trying to be thin.

Medicine considers the human body as to the means by which it is cured and by which it is driven away from health.

If you spend all day on horseback, and you hop off, you walk around like you still have a horse between your legs. And it affects your shoulders. They fall.

I wonder what it would be like if I took care of my body as well as I take care of your memory.

If that vital spark that we find in a grain of wheat can pass unchanged through countless deaths and resurrections, will the spirit of man be unable to pass from this body to another?

I don’t want to show my body to the ones, who often close their eyes, when it’s time to praise the beauty of my mind and soul.

We ought to regard ourselves and to act as socialists–believers in the wholesomeness and beneficence of the body politic.