“You’re preserved inside of me; cadaversque. I both acquiesce and atrophy because of it.”

Anxiety is living with an apple on your head and you imagine that everyone you know stands watching with a bow to shoot an arrow at it.

The stars are where we came from. They orchestrated our return to the place we can always come home: our ancient, timeless love.

You are what it feels like to watch the final silvers of sun fall and die into the silver ocean; tangerine sky giving way to moon-glow and starlight.

We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.

Last night, I sent you home with a kiss and a promise. I hope you still believe in roses.

Our story bleeds from my eyes until I cannot tell the stars from streetlights.

Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.

Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.

Do I look as good as I remember, Looking back at you from over my shoulder, smug as the devil?

The day I made peace with my pain was the day I was born again.

“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.

How do you sleep soundly, knowing you traded roses for weeds?

I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.

As if flesh and skin and hands are any match for bullets. As if bones won’t crack in hails of powder and lead. As if rivers of blood are not the direct result of trigger fingers that bend but do not break on “bad days”.

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.

If the nation is not capable of preserving itself and reproducing, if it loses it vital bearings and ideals, then it doesn’t need foreign enemies – it will fall apart on its own.

You must see with eyes unclouded by hate. See the good in that which is evil, and the evil in that which is good. Pledge yourself to neither side, but vow instead to preserve the balance that exists between the two.

I love writing songs because I love preserving memories, like putting a picture frame around a feeling you once had.

A man who believes in freedom will do anything under the sun to acquire, or preserve his freedom.

Individuals entering into society, must give up a share of liberty to preserve the rest.

Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it.

Our labour preserves us from three great evils – weariness, vice, and want.

Diversification may preserve wealth, but concentration builds wealth.