Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore.

"Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turn'd, nor Hell a fury like a woman scorn'd."

I'm short of breath.

I can't even put my thoughts into coherent sentences.

I want to go and burn my Bukowski books.

I keep playing Martha Wainwright's "Bloody Motherfucking Asshole" in my head.

I'm not a violent person, but I've certainly had to feel the backlash from those who are.

I could kill a man. Three men in particular. If they did not exist my life would be better.

I am not strong enough to defend myself physically or mentally.

Stop hurting me.