“I opened the fire doorto four lipsnone of which were minekissingtightened my belt around my hipswhere your hands were missingand stepped out into the coldcollar highunder the slate grey skythe air was smoking and the streets were dryand I wasn't joking when I saidGood Byemagazine quality men talking on the cornerFrench, no less much less of them then usso why do I feel like something's been rearranged?you know, taken out of context I must seem so strangekilled a cockroach so bigit left a puddle of pus on the wallwhen you and I are lying in bedyou don't seem so tallI'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tiredand my brain is disconnected but my heart is wiredI make such a good statisticsomeone should study me nowsomebody's got to be interested in how I feeljust 'cause I'm hereand I'm realoh, how I misssubstituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kissand oh, how I misswalking up to the edge and jumping inlike I could feel the future on your skinI opened the fire doorto four lipsnone of which were minekissingI opened the fire door”

“I want to undo this. To make it right. But I have no idea how. I don't seem to know how to open up to people without getting the door slammed in my face. So I do nothing.”

“I don't know what this feeling is... I only know that I feel safe in your arms. My heart races every time I see you, I can't catch my breath when I'm around you, and I'm on fire whenever you touch me...”

“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?”

“I did it to protect my good reputation in case anyone ever caught me walking around with crab apples in my cheeks. With rubber balls in my hands I could deny there were crab apples in my cheeks. Everytime someone asked me why I was walking around with crab apples in my cheeks, I'd just open my hands and show them it was rubber balls I was walking around with, not crab apples, and that they were in my hands, not my cheeks. It was a good story, but I never knew if it got across or not, since its pretty hard to make people understand you when your talking to them with two crab apples in your cheeks.”

“That’s when I feel like the real me. I want to be a rock for you too, but I often feel inadequate to do so. I know I should express my self-doubt to you rather than leave you guessing my feelings. If I am given the chance, I will show you just how much my very essence is intertwined with yours and that I am incomplete without you. I will commit to nurturing our union, including keeping the lines of communication open.”