We all have somethingurgent to do.Tell the man thatworks at the butcher'sshop.Tell the boy who deliversyour newspaper.Tell the groundhog beforehe sees his shadow.Dig up Poe and Ginsberg,and tell them.Tell the streetmusician playingfor tips.Tell the whores and thevirgins.Tell the next...

My dreamy world of writingis a graveyard shrouded in fog.Where each story has a grave,each grave has a character.These living, breathing corpseswith open eyes, raspy voicesand souls, gaze on through my eyes.

There is a keyhole to my heartthough there is no key holder.A keyhole to the wonders I dream of us,wonders that only exist within my mind.This door to my soul locked and windowless,you beg to enter even if only...

I possess an illness,an addiction to your drug.A sip of rose wineand conversation intoxicates me,and I am left cravingthe petals of your rose.Symptoms of lonelinessand the longing for you,I have no regretsfor my addiction to you.Your beauty is thus...