Two celestial beings destroy each other over a petty argument.
And two cartoon characters live happily ever after.
An actor is playing an insecure caricature, while a despicable tyrant commits genocide.

I am talking to a girl who flirts with me and it makes me happy.
I'm allowed to be happy.
I lay awake at night with guilt.
I'm allowed to feel guilty.

I drink and I smoke,
but I haven't touched an ****** in so long I lost count of the days.

We continue to talk,
I hear nothing but meaningless small talk
and speak likewise, if only to prove a point.

THREE old hermits took the air
By a cold and desolate sea,
First was muttering a prayer,
Second rummaged for a flea;
On a windy stone, the third,
Giddy with his hundredth year,
Sang unnoticed like a bird:
"Though the Door of Death is near
And what waits behind the door,
Three times in a single day
I, though upright on the shore,
Fall asleep when I should pray.'
So the first, but now the second:
"We're but given what we have eamed
When all thoughts and deeds are reckoned,
So it's plain to be discerned
That the shades of holy men
Who have failed, being weak of will,
Pass the Door of Birth again,
And are plagued by crowds, until
They've the passion to escape."
Moaned the other, "They are thrown
Into some most fearful shape.'
But the second mocked his moan:
"They are not changed to anything,
Having loved God once, but maybe
To a poet or a king
Or a witty lovely lady."
While he'd rummaged rags and hair,
Caught and cracked his flea, the third,
Giddy with his hundredth year,
Sang unnoticed like a bird.

I imagined your hips in my hands,
and I imagined I had it all under control.

I stared at your lips when you spoke,
you pretended not to notice.

I stared at your *** when you walked away,
and your hips swang methodically, enticingly.

Public intoxication, two nights in the county jail, 500 dollars in court fees and fines, and the feel of your breast on my palms.  These are the things that haunt me.
You haunt me.

I am not worthy of being hers, receiving her love, being held in her arms.

Is a believer worthy or his god's love?
Are you worthy of Jesus's love?

We as human beings have tried to capture what we believe in, what we're most passionate about, through art.

I will try to describe to you my beliefs.
I will try to describe to you my love.

Her ******* could be compared to the most delicious fruit, eaten on a summer day.

Her love is that of no other. It is as powerful as an endless rain, as gentle as a lilac.

Her voice rings true in my ear. There is beauty in truth and her words are a scripture to be worshipped.

Her touch is softer than a cloud in heaven,
yet firm.

Her strength is seldom flexed but when needed she could move a mountain will force of will.

She is love, she is the essence, she fuels desire and stars equally.

She is kindness, she is forgiveness, she is a blessing to me and every other living creature that encounters her.

I am an unworthy servant, I will wash her feet a thousand times.

She is the sun and the moon.

Timmy got a bike,
Timmy ******* died.
Timmy's mother drank,
Timmy's father cried.

And it rained.
It rained for five days and six nights,
and although it stopped raining on the sixth day, the sun did not shine.

It's the movement,
iOS7, download tonight,
Timmy's bike was red,
his friends thought it was tight.

Timmy got a bike,
(Each day we all feel a bit more like Bukowski, a bit more cynical)
Timmy ******* died.

A Half Forgotten Memory of the Train Tracks in Puget Sound

People are uncomfortable with truth.
There is truth in silence
and people are uncomfortable with silence.

When asked how one is doing, the proper response is 'fine' or any indicator of greater ease.
One is expected to participate in class activities, team building exercises, and other meticulous, tedious motions of repetition.

One should shake hands, smile, participate in pagentry when only putrescence is felt.

One should not look at walls, there is no social status in looking at walls.
One should not have problems unless they are desirable. Anxiety, but too bad. Depression, but not too bad.
One should appear clean and well slept,
one should claim one received very little sleep, regardless of how much sleep one actually received.

If one is female, one should show skin but not too much skin.
If one is female, one should not resist ****** advances, yet one should not have multiple ****** partners.

If one is male, one should be in fit condition, one should not cry, and one should not show interest in a member of the opposite gender except for those of a ****** nature. One should not acknowledge the existence of more than two genders, ****** orientations, or trains of thought.

One should be socially and politically aware, but one should not raise their voice on these issues unless others of a high social status are.

One should be happy, but not too happy.