A wild spirit is crucial when it comes to creative survival. Remaining untamed is the ultimate protection.

The clearing. The transmutation. The offering.

Dangerous, but dull.

Memory is an illusion just as much as illusions are memory.

The Earth speaks to the stars. And they listen.

A garden of golden delights, she blooms with care.

The fiercest protection arises from acceptance of our vulnerability.

There is a sweetness in the twilight that is best left untouched.

Sadness ends where survival begins.

Stories are spells. Some are weaved to save you, some to destroy you.

If you don’t know what to believe, start with believing nothing. Except your beating heart.

Your softness saved me.

A new love that tastes like the sky.

Conformism is not the same as sacrifice. We sacrifice for love, and conform to belong.

Living like broken glass.

The silvering silence of the eclipsed saturnine Moon.

If there are rules, it’s still a game.

Each morning gives birth to a new universe.

There is a bulwark that stands in the way of all who want to change. It has the name of all those who don’t.

Let your killers put flowers on your grave, and think this now makes them good people. No one brings back the dead.

Things we are not meant to choose; our talents, whom we love, and how long we live.

Sinking, as immune response to a malefic lover.

We are the storm.

Low tides in swelling hearts.

Dying is not difficult. Living is not difficult. Living a lie is difficult.

To love is to be alive.

A box full of flower dust & time.

Love them when they win or fail, but not because of it.

On losing essence in aesthetics.

Don’t let them hijack your story, and turn it into theirs.

Commit to the beat of your own heart. All else turns.

You have to say it. If you don’t, be sure your enemies will.

Masking lack of compassion with sentiment.

Delirious, but accurate.

Love is at the point of contact.

If you opt for power, over love, accept hell.

Go towards what your heart desires, it will be delightful. Even the pain.

He’s entertaining because he keeps you guessing. But there’s no mystery, baby. Just a void, inside.

In the midst of artifice, reality presents luxury.

Whatever you think separates you, or elevates you, is contrary to the divine.

A thwarted ambition turns to envy.

Poetry is a way to voice feelings without losing them.

We get our names from naming what we love.

There are two kinds of folk, ones that see the ruby, and ones that see the dust.