I Can't Even Trust My Own Imaginary

I Guess There Was A War Going On Somewhere In The World That Night But It Wasn't One That Could Touch Us.

The Soldier Had Stamped My Passport Family In Heavy Black Capital Letters And I Checked It Now For Reassurance And Because I Liked How Fierce The Word Looked

It's Not That He Lacked Poetry. But His Poetry Was Of The Body, Not The Mind. He Spoke It In The Way He Moved, The Way He Held A Hammer, Rowed A Boat, Built A Fire. I, On The Other Hand, Was Like A Brain In A Box, A Beating Heart In A Coal Scuttle.

It Might Go Down Better Than Appearing As A Giant Reptile Encased In A Ball Of Fire And Forcing Yourself On Her.' 'why Do You Always Have To Bring That Up?

I Was Pretty Far Gone, But Not So Far Gone That I Thought Anyone With Half A Toehold In Reality Would Think What We Were Doing Was A Good Idea.