"and everytime i open my mouth, it only seems to send postcards devoid of destination."

"there is no guest list written out in advance for a funeral."

"if i'm not the chaos, i don't want it. not even with you."

"i played with matches in the house. i stole the money from the safe."

"place me back in the ground, cover me in soil. i want to be planted."

"the years have cataracted my eyes and images have hardened. nothing ever flows to rearrange itself into metaphors."

“i am going to die today!” i screamed in joy.