“I spend every evening praying for the dawn.”

There’s no reason keepin’ secrets, maybe regret is a weakness.

I give you piece’s of my secrets like religion to believe in.

Baby, I’ve tried, but I can’t unlove you.

The hardest part of leaving is to make it look so easy… isn’t that the unfortunate fuckin truth.

I remember I was there for you bitches, when nobody cared for you bitches.

Life can be fuckked upppp… but it sure is beautiful.

My mind is scarier than my demons.

Things don’t always work out the way you plan and we’ve discovered that sometimes for the best.

Darlin if I could, I would fall for someone good.

It’s always been hard for me to walk away from people I love when I’ve grown to become reliant on even some of their most harmful traits.

I will always love the worst of you.

It’s easier to let a heart wait than make a heartbreak.

Across the curve of the earth, there are women getting up before dawn, in the blackness before the point of light, in the twilight before sunrise; there are women rising earlier than men and children to break the ice, to start the stove, to put up the pap.

The petroDollar system breaking down, where oil is no longer paid for in Dollars internationally.

We can never sneer at the stars, mock the dawn, or scoff at the totality of being.

Do not be small minded. Do not pray for gourds and pumpkins from God, when you should be asking for pure love and pure knowledge to dawn within every heart.

No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.

What have they done to the earth? What have they done to our fair sister?

A poet is a verb that blossoms light in gardens of dawn, or sometimes midnight.

Erotic play discloses a nameless world which is revealed by the nocturnal language of lovers. Such language is not written down. It is whispered into the ear at night in a hoarse voice. At dawn it is forgotten.