She wanted to eat my heart and be lost in the desert with what she'd done, she
wanted to fall on her knees and give birth from it, she wanted to hurt me as only a child can be hurt by its mother.
I knew every raindrop by its name.
English words are like prisms. Empty, nothing inside, and still they make rainbows.
And therefore I looked down into the great pity of a person’s life on this earth. I don’t mean that we all end up dead, that’s not the great pity. I mean that he couldn’t tell me what he was dreaming, and I couldn’t tell him what was real.
Talk into my bullet hole. Tell me I'm fine.
Sometimes what I wouldn't give to have us sitting in a bar again at 9:00 a.m. telling lies to one another, far from God.
All these weirdos, and me getting a little better every day right in the midst of them. I had never known, never even imagined for a heartbeat, that there might be a place for people like us.