in this land some of us fuck more than we die but most of us die better than we fuck
there’s nothing todiscussthere’s nothing torememberthere’s nothing toforgetit’s sadand it’s notsadseems themost sensiblethinga person can doissitwith drink inhandas the wallswavetheir goodbyesmilesone comes throughit allwith a certain amount ofefficiency andbraverythenleavessome acceptthe possibility ofGodto help themgetthroughotherstake itstaight onand...
That was all a man needed: hope. It was lack of hope that discouraged a man.
You bitch,” I whispered, “I love you.” Then I came.
all theorieslike clichesshot to hell,all these small faceslooking upbeautiful and believing;I wish to weepbut sorrow isstupid.I wish to believe but believe is agraveyard. we have narrowed it down tothe butcherknife and themockingbird wish usluck.
Don’t you go to the movies?””Mostly just to eat popcorn in the dark.