A True Poet Does Not Bother To

Art Is A Marriage Of The Conscious And The Unconscious.

The Dead Drug Leaves A Ghost Behind. At Certain Hours It Haunts The House.

May The Devil Himself Splatter You With Dung.

My Method Is Simple: Not To Bother About Poetry. It Must Come Of Its Own Accord. Merely Whispering Its Name Drives It Away.

You've Never Seen Death? Look In The Mirror Every Day And You Will See It Like Bees Working In A Glass Hive.