I Knew It Would Be You

You Are Yesterday's Bouquet So Sadly Raided

The Role Of The Poet Is Almost Nothing...drearily Nothing. And When He Steps Outside Of His Boots And Tries To Get Tough As Our Dear Ezra [pound] Did, He Will Get His Pink Little Ass Slapped.

I Don’t Understand People, Never Will. It Looks Like I Got To Travel Pretty Much Alone.

Unless The Sun Inside You Is Burning Your Gut, Don't Do It

The Trouble With A Mask Is It Never Changes