I want to know if there are big hopes for us humans, or do we dwell in the muck thinking we are so damn special, holding our noses up to each other, petty and even evil, seeking easy ways and being harmful?

The words have a world within them, ready to form and alter, ready to sing and scream, and the poet is only partly responsible, if you fall off your chair or drool.

She pretended to be a male monster as long as it served her, and it lasted a while till she became part monster and part male.

Human's with great potential have things to do, and that is our purpose, as much as hot air is.

We can not Judge everything, we don't know and understand it all, which is to say we are human.

What Jews do so well.

The clogged streets were love roads, places for those to fade into, and I loved her once, or so I thought so, came running up a wall, her mouth everywhere talking, always talking, as if daggers were each tooth, and each decay, and all that was wrong with people.