your heart out
to strange men whose lips can kiss love in multiple tongues
every time you ask them to spell loyalty.
Letters to my Sisters
A writer is a world trapped in a person.
I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.
I find nothing more depressing than optimism.
The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.
'Are you always a smartass?'
Nope. Sometimes I’m asleep.