Religions Get Lost As People Do.

Should I Be Grateful Or Should I Curse The Fact That Despite All Misfortune I Can Still Feel Love, An Unearthly Love But Still For Earthly Objects.

Written Kisses Never Arrive At Their Destination; The Ghosts Drink Them Up Along The Way.

Writing [is] A Form Of Prayer.

The Bible Is A Sanctum; The World, Sputum.

This Morning, For The First Time In A Long Time, The Joy Again Of Imagining A Knife Twisted In My Heart.