Girls are not machines that you put kindness coins into until sex falls out.
She wasn’t bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.
I’m more honest in my poetry than to myself. That’s what I’m hunting for when I’m working away there in the poem. I’m hunting for the truth. It might be a kind of poetic truth, and not just a factual one, because behind everything that happens to you, every act there is another truth, a secret life.
People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.