I just like to write and then perform.
Rats live on no evil star
Poems aren't postcards to send home.
There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
It's a little mad, but I believe I am many people. When I am writing a poem, I feel I am the person who should have written it.
If I could blame it on all the mothers and fathers of the world, they of the lessons, the pellets of power, they of the love surrounding you like batter. . . Blame it on God perhaps? He of the first opening that pushed us all into our first mistakes? No, I'll blame it on Man For Man is God and man is eating the earth up like a candy bar and not one of them can be left alone with the ocean for it is known he will gulp it all down. The stars (possibly) are safe. At least for the moment. The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
I would like a simple life yet all night I am laying poems away in a long box.
By birth and upbringing, I think I'm emotionally resilient. I don't feel like I'm a depressive person.
And some people, you've got to lock up. If you don't, they're going to hurt you.
My external sensations are no less private to my self than are my thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround it [] In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul, the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul.
I guess it's a choice we make," she said. "What's a choice?" I asked. And she said, "How much of the world we let in.