It may grow angry. Its basement may fill with churning acid like an empty stomach. And its gorge may rise as it asks itself, through clenched teeth, "what did I do wrong?"

You really are a shadow of what you were back then. Well, every good thing has to end.

"I can’t help it," said the scorpion. "It’s my nature."

When the pain finally comes, it comes all at once. And it never ends.

But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass.

you're in hell, you all are

The windows of my living room, covering the walls with wide views of my front and back yards, fill the room with light during the day and an air of vulnerability during the night.

I am Jack's raging bile duct.

you're lying, nobody remembers me

Dear James, It's time for me to go. I'm sorry I never told you, but it's going to be okay. We'll see each other soon. From Noah

When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all?

That's how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don't earn it. It's given.

I feel your heart beating against my lungs. I've needed this so badly. It's so... relaxing.

When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all?

It may grow angry. Its basement may fill with churning acid like an empty stomach. And its gorge may rise as it asks itself, through clenched teeth, "what did I do wrong?"

"You're acting stubborn and ignorant," Daddy said. "Collective absence of pain can't eliminate it's existance. As they say, the palette is drawn to the canvas."

Dear James, It's time for me to go. I'm sorry I never told you, but it's going to be okay. We'll see each other soon. From Noah

The windows of my living room, covering the walls with wide views of my front and back yards, fill the room with light during the day and an air of vulnerability during the night.

There's no good outcome from a house fire.

I am Jack's wasted life.

There's no good outcome from a house fire.

I wanted to destroy something beautiful.

When the pain finally comes, it comes all at once. And it never ends.

If I am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man.

i wish the world was kinder to you. i wish your past had been easier. but i hope i can make your future something to look forward to.

The reflection wasn’t clear at all, but as you began to describe her grisly deformities, she began to "see" them.

Fuck you all and fuck me as well. Merry Christmas. Check your bathroom now.

Are you still there? Are you still you?

I am Jack's broken heart.

And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She's got a hanker for plums and ain't nothing else gonna do.

I WANT TO GO HOME DON'T CLOSE THE MENU I MISS YOU

i turned around and saw an angel

To catch her, you had to lie, but it may not be a lie forever.

struggle without killing torture without satisfaction conflict without resolution hatred without an outlet no one left to direct it toward but myself

You tell me it's a cruel world and we're all running around in circles. I know that. I've been on this earth just as many days as you.

I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

He looked like a wild animal, cornered by a wolf that never existed.

struggle without killing torture without satisfaction conflict without resolution hatred without an outlet no one left to direct it toward but myself

And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual.

The fact that you think I am frustrated or broken says more about you than about me.

I felt like putting a buIIet between the eyes of every panda that wouldn’t screw to save its species, I wanted to open valves on oil tankers and smother all those French beaches I’d never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.

Of course I recognize you. Those eyes. That nose. That’s still you.

I turn around and see it bending over my head

The way below winds deeper, longer, unspeakable its patterns laid. The lost forever damned to wander, this thing a quiet madness made.

The dead were thrown into the fire. They, too, were byproducts of a much more important process.

You feel her clammy hand touch your back.

do you guys think jesus, the son of a carpenter, smelt the wood of the cross & temporarily thought of home

The dead were thrown into the fire. They, too, were byproducts of a much more important process.

I understand your misgivings. It is terrifying to become something new. It's a little bit like dying.

I'm still me, but I'm not somehow. It's hard to describe.