Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us.

I’ll Die For Your Sins If You Live For mine.

all right buddah gets a backstage pass but all his friends have to pay

Poetry can unleash a terrible fear. I suppose it is the fear of possibilities, too many possibilities, each with its own endless set of variations. It’s like looking too closely and too long into a...

Poverty of young men alone behind thestairways, who practicealchemy inside bottle caps, who knowthe altruism of a last syringe.

I wind up stretched across the couchstill nodding with Sherlock Holmesexamining our crushed veins

You’re growing up. And rain sort of remains on the branches of a tree that will someday rule the Earth. And it’s good that there is rain. It clears the month of your sorry rainbow...

Whiteness is the color of death, you know, not black. Wetness is life, the breeder and shaper of life. In the beginning the sun was black. So all light was absorbed before it had a...

Back then, Billy imagined that drops of rain were unanswered prayers falling back to earth.