It Was Only When You Left It

Write The Unpublishable.. .and Then Publish It.

What's Funny About Jesus' Son Is That I Never Even Wrote That Book, I Just Wrote It Down. I Would Tell These Stories And People Would Say, You Should Write These Things Down.

When We Were Arguing On My Twenty-fourth Birthday, She Left The Kitchen, Came Back With A Pistol, And Fired It At Me Five Times From Right Across The Table. But She Missed. It Wasn't My Life She Was After. It Was More. She Wanted To Eat My Heart And Be Lost In The Desert With What She'd Done, She Wanted To Fall On Her Knees And Give Birth From It, She Wanted To Hurt Me As Only A Child Can Be Hurt By Its Mother.

After The Film It Was Raining, A Light Steady Rain. Ruthless Neon On The Wet Streets Like Busted Candy.

This Life Is But The Childhood Of Our Immortality.