“Always falling but not for anything.”

We search for meaning. And destroy it.

She was simple. Like a poem, and always dressed in sunshine.

She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.

A lot of ugly people hide behind beautiful eyes. A lot of things are only lies.

I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.

She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.

It’s funny how love fades, and they become more than a poem about yesterday.

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

She’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.

Sometimes I wonder if these rain soaked shoes will get me home.

She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.

Women are beautiful. But some are made of hell.

This heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.

Romance is a dream. I can get better shit at the liquor store.

With her, the world becomes art.

I hated you. and you hated me. But we called it love.

I’m not going to limit myself just because people won’t accept the fact that I can do something else.

To persevere in one’s duty, and be silent is the best answer to calumny.

All things are ready, if our mind be so.

Accept yourself. You don’t have to prove shit to no one except yourself.

Once I made a decision, I never thought about it again.

I’m trying to think, don’t confuse me with facts.

I meant what I said and I said what I meant.

A man without a mustache is a man without a soul.