“Her poetry  – a sweet symphony of madness.”

I called upon your name but there’s nobody there.

Even the stars wish for you but the night is ours and you’re mine.

Behind that gate of skin and bone dwells his soul and I’m not ready to move on.

And in a world full of wonder a loyal soul that keeps your heart whole is the rarest of them all.

And in a world where nothing seems to last you have me.

Your ghost still haunts the empty halls of my soul.

I don’t wanna settle scores I’m just no longer yours.

Let me lay in the forest of your mind and let me wake to the beating of wings in the garden of your heart.

And I vow to be your lasting dream if you follow me into the river.

Be careful, her hell is lovely, dark, and deep until she weeps.

The forest lays in darkness and decay yet our love blossoms.

Hold me like the end is near and I swear I’ll risk hades’ wrath just to keep you here.

Can’t you see you’re toxic to me there’s no affection just obsession?

Some girls dream of princes and castles others play with matches.

I don’t mind his company but I wish he was you.

I feel too much and I fall in love with words – poet.

Fame attracts lunatics.

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he?

It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense, That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.

The ethical view of the universe involves us in so many cruel and absurd contradictions that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot be ethical at all.

I want your madness, only if you promise to be mad about me.

An individual who is afraid to go outdoors for fear of being hit by a meteorite is generally regarded as neurotic.

Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.

If a madman were to come into this room with a stick in his hand, no doubt we should pity the state of his mind; but our primary consideration would be to take care of ourselves. We should knock him down first, and pity him afterwards.