I keep thinking about blood. I dream about it. Wake up thinking about it. Pretty soon I'll be writing morbid emo poetry about it.

Write with blood, and you will find that blood is spirit.

instead of wasting my anger on complaining or lashing out at people, I try to channel it into my writing and my drawing. So go on, get angry. But keep your mouth shut and go do your work.

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head

instead of wasting my anger on complaining or lashing out at people, I try to channel it into my writing and my drawing.

Acts of violence enter my poems because we live in a violent world.

May I really say it! All truths are bloody truths to me—take a look at my previous writings.

I write so slowly, I could write with my own blood and not hurt myself.

Where talent is lacking, anger writes poetry.

I want to be a writer of violence…I think the more you talk about violence, the more you can undo violence…

Everyone has violence in themselves. I'm violent.

anger is constantly the fuel that feeds the work that I do, keeps me thinking of myself as an activist, and keeps me writing.

I am 'too fiery' … yet I wish to be seen as I am, and would lose all rather than soften away anything.

Oh, as far as they go." Helmholtz shrugged his shoulders. "But they go such a little way. They aren't important enough, somehow. I feel I could do something much more important. Yes, and more intense, more violent. But what? What is there more important to say? And how can one be violent about the sort of things one's expected to write about? Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly — they'll go through anything. You read and you're pierced. That's one of the things I try to teach my students — how to write piercingly. But what on earth's the good of being pierced by an article about a Community Sing, or the latest improvement in scent organs? Besides, can you make words really piercing — you know, like the very hardest X-rays — when you're writing about that sort of thing? Can you say something about nothing? That's what it finally boils down to. I try and I try.