My heart beats to the rhythm of the windshield wipers. I’d better never drive in the desert, unless I want to die. Our relationship has one too many cactuses in it to be deserving of my love.
Sure, I’d fake my own death. But only if I had the following items: duct tape, seven slinkies, a parachute, and a mannequin that looked like me.
He seemed to swallow the lie I fed him. I hope he’s not still hungry. If he is, I’ll give him the illusory dessert known as the American Dream.
Night—it’s the only thing that will cover up one of my black moods. Good thing my depression isn’t an every day kind of thing. It’s an after day thing.
I’m sure you could win with a design that I’d cast off as trash. Such is the curious case of the annual Garbage Festival. Plus, I’m just that good. Or am I that bad?
In real life I was alone, but in my dream I was in a crowd, and that’s why I farted. But being the gentleman that I am, I blamed it on your dad.
I make love with my eyes closed, because I make love in my dreams. If you wanted to go for seconds, we could, because I make love buffet style.
My hush is lush. It’s drunk on its own greenness, just as I’m drunk on my blue silence. What would you say if I asked you to turquoise?
When she’s cuddled close, I feel there’s nothing I can’t do, and I can’t do nothing about it, because my heart is her heart for as long as she wants it.
Her love is a green rose in a fit of red jealousy. Contrast that to my love, which has no contrast, and is a red rose full of red envy for the object of her jealousy.
It must be awful to be on a team with a superstar, someone much better than everyone else. At least that’s how my teammates must feel about me. But who cares? They’re just my clones.
I’m looking for lost, but I don’t think I’ll ever find it, because the moment I do find it, it isn’t. Still, I’ll bet I find it before I find love.
You get used to success and you start to expect it—and that’s when you fail. Luckily for me, I can’t possibly fail, precisely because I always fail.
The best thing my grandpa ever said to me was, “Gladys, bring me some more damn soup.” Well, maybe he wasn’t talking to me, but it was still good to hear he was a romantic.
Maybe I will buy my nephew an aquarium for his next birthday. It’s got to be better than the bathroom sink, which is where my brother is keeping him now.
I don’t have any original facial expressions. Everything I have I inherited from my parents. Someday I’ll show you my “You’re adopted” smile.
A person’s favorite word is brother, because he or she can relate to it. I love it because we value most in life the things we do not have.
I like spending time with my family. And if you have the same last name as me, we might be family. I’m an orphan, so I was hoping we could hang out.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living in my father’s shadow. But then he takes a few steps, or bends down to stretch his back, and I get to enjoy the sunlight for a few moments.
Release your love—and then release the prisoners. They’ve been trapped in my testicles all day. I wonder if we can get a family discount if we buy circus tickets in bulk.
Would you mind a mind blindfold, a block on your imagination? You couldn’t create a fantasy world to live in, but you could create a life for yourself without irrational fears of the future.
