“Late nights. Poetry. Cigarettes. and a wounded heart, trying to forget you.”

She wanted love. So I fed her, inch by inch.

She’s like turning on the radio and hearing a brand new song.

We are only beautiful monsters, dreaming of god.

She’s just a girl. But her pussy makes me see god.

I gave her address to my soul. Ans she fucked the mailman.

I liked her simplicity. She wanted coffee and orgasms.

In an endless universe, she needed space.

I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.

Overcoming guilt, its the first step to doing it again.

Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.

I wake to find her there, with glowing eyes and tangled hair. She is my sunrise.

Her memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.

True love is letting her know that her ass really does look fat in those jeans.

If there’s never been a restraining order, it ain’t love.

It wasn’t forever. But I loved her until I hated her.

She was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.

The road to tyranny, we must never forget, begins with the destruction of the truth.

All your life, you’ll meet people that only want to break you down. Forget them, stand strong with the people who build you up.

It may be difficult to understand why a test comes our way, but we must never forget that the test is accomplishing refining and purification.

The problem is that people forget.

Let us never forget that government is ourselves and not an alien power over us. The ultimate rulers of our democracy are not a President and Senators and Congressmen and Government officials but the voters of this country.

Those who say they will forgive but can’t forget, simply bury the hatchet but leave the handle out for immediate use.

We can stand affliction better than we can prosperity, for in prosperity we forget God.

Forget about the consequences of failure. Failure is only a temporary change in direction to set you straight for your next success.