Listen, Real Poetry Doesn't Say

Out Here On The Perimeter There Are No Stars. Out Here We Is Stoned. Immaculate.

The Time To Hesitate Is Through No Time To Wallowin The Mire Try Now We Can Only Lose And Our Love Become A Funeral Pyre

I Believe In A Long, Prolonged, Derangement Of The Senses In Order To Obtain The Unknown.

It May Have Been In Pieces, But I Gave You The Best Of Me.

Sex Is Full Of Lies. The Body Tries To Tell The Truth. But, It's Usually Too Battered With Rules To Be Heard, And Bound With Pretenses So It Can Hardly Move. We Cripple Ourselves With Lies.