People Empty Me. I Have

I Will Remember The Kisses, Our Lips Raw With Love, And How You Gave Me Everything You Had And How I Offered You What Was Left Of Me.

Life's As Kind As You Let It Be.

Finally There Is Nothing Here For Death To Take Away.

Bad Poetry Is Caused By People Who Sit Down And Think, Now I Am Going To Write A Poem.

They Have No Idea That It Can Be Done By A Bus Driver, A Field Hand, Or A Fry Cook. They Have No Idea Where It Comes From. It Comes From Pain, Damnation And Impossibility. The Blow To The Soul Of The Gut. It Comes From Getting Burned And Seared And Slugged. It Comes From...new And Awful Places And The Same Old Places.