“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and watch me spark like a match tossed to tinder.”

You don’t deserve her, but the least you can do is damned well love her.

I’ve brought myself back to life more times than I can remember. And when I say I brought myself back, I mean, I have clawed, clambered and coaxed myself from the precipice of self destruction.

I am ruled by emotion. She is a fickle leader of a volatile kingdom, where conniving skies cast intemperate clouds over my constitution.

I looked again at my new ring and in that moment all I knew, was that the greatest of adventures would be revealed in with you.

Champagne on our lips and desire on our minds and you can leave those painful memories behind and you can bring your hand to my heart as we kiss. There’s nothing else but us on nights like this.

How are you yet to learn? I don’t want grand gestures. I don’t want the world on a plate, the best life has to offer, material things or flashy gimmicks. I just want you with me.

Burnt mirror, smeared glass. Do you like what you see? If my body is a temple, then my poetry is the darkest vestry. My mouth is a chalice, and these words are sacramental.

Still, I wrote. Even when the police where coming. Even when my whole body hurt, and the slightest sound would make me quake.

Go on then, color me broken whilst I feign my surprise. Let me summon some sorrow for this wreckage inside.

With all these past fears still written on my skin, it bruises me to let you in. Trauma’s that this body holds, still guard these tactile lips untold.

A seed of suspicion. A sprout of doubt. A sapling of worry. But what an oak of strength I’ve become.

I was told I could break free if I wanted to. That my wings would mend with time. But how can I mend a part of me that was never built to weather a storm?

Let me show you how words can make merriment from the most bitter melancholy. How words softly spoken, can heal even the most insidious of wounds.

But are they protection or a cage? These ribs that ensnare my heart so.

Guess who’s flying free now? You, a mere speck of the ground. And I, lost and found amongst the clouds.

You pack your whole life away as many times as I have, and it’s no more than routine. But in you I’ve found a home, more so than anywhere I’ve been.

The younger generation is supposed to rage against the machine, not for it. They’re supposed to question authority, not question those who question authority.

Emotions, particularly anger, are like fire. They can cook your food and keep you warm, or they can burn your house down.

We cannot go anywhere with anger that we haven’t already been.

I wrestled with anger from the age of sixteen. It’s still one of my nemeses. I have to remember that the word of God says, ‘Be slow to anger.’

If you fight angry, you make a lot of mistakes, and when you fight a sharp, witty fighter like me, you can’t make mistakes.

Human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.

Now there’s a seven-day waiting period to buy a gun. Who can stay mad that long?

My passion and energy get mistaken for anger.