Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.

I love what you offered but, darling flesh, how can you help me when I can’t sleep without nightmares, I cannot stop the singing from the distant hills, I cannot drink without writing all my distraught thoughts down on the page for you? And who wants darling flesh after such words are spoken?

To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.

all that wet.

Crepe myrtle!
Isn’t there someone out
there who’ll give themselves
up to me
to be ruined?

Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.

… before today my body was useless./ now it’s tearing at its square corners.

To see you naked is to recall the Earth.

I would love to make the Devil weep, if only I truly believed such a rogue existed; but how can something so tailored to 13th Century Europe’s concepts of ‘sin’ be anything more than the fever-dreams of sexually repressed, unwashed old men with bad teeth and syphilis?

I’ve been in Sorrow’s kitchen and licked out all the pots …