Kelsey

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Between Two Fires
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by Christopher Buehlman (Goodreads Author)
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Slewfoot: A Tale ...
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by Brom (Goodreads Author)
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Charles Bukowski
“I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.”
Charles Bukowski

Richard Siken
“We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars
                                                                                                                                                      as the road around us
grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through the glass
                    already laced with frost,
but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out of
                                                                                                                                                                          lullabies.
But damn if there isn’t anything sexier
                                                            than a slender boy with a handgun,
                                                                                                                                  a fast car, a bottle of pills.”
Richard Siken, Crush

Chuck Palahniuk
“A girl calls and asks, "Does it hurt very much to die?"
"Well, sweetheart," I tell her, "yes, but it hurts a lot more to keep living.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor

Charles Bukowski
“you've got to burn
straight up and down
and then maybe sidewise
for a while
and have your guts
scrambled by a
bully
and the demonic
ladies,
you've got to run
along the edge of
madness
teetering,
you've got to starve
like a winter
alleycat,
you've go to live
with the imbecility
of at least a dozen
cities,
then maybe
maybe
maybe
you might know
where you are
for a tiny
blinking
moment.”
Charles Bukowski, Bone Palace Ballet: New Poems

Virginia Woolf
“When, however, one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs, or even of a very remarkable man who had a mother, then I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet, of some mute and inglorious Jane Austen, some Emily Bronte who dashed her brains out on the moor or mopped and mowed about the highways crazed with the torture that her gift had put her to. Indeed, I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

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