Such is life. We grow up. Planets like Tiny get new moons. Moons like me get new planets.

I threw out my sausage, and replaced it with a healthier penis metaphor, like a cucumber.

If television's a babysitter, the Internet is a drunk librarian who won't shut up.

She was lost now, she'd been silenced- another dead branch on Cordova's warped tree.

But it was like a dance across a field strewn with razors, and I bled with every step I took.

I found myself in a sea in which the waves of joy and sorrow were clashing against each other.

Metaphors are our way of losing ourselves in semblances or treading water in a sea of seeming.

Comparisons are like rigid fingers—eager to point at a subject but unwilling to grasp it.

His smile was so wide he’d have had to break it into sections to fit it through a doorway

I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.

I'm a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world.

My mother always says that love is like a snakebite, a venom slowly spreading through your veins

Living a good life is like flipping pancakes. If you hesitate, it splatters all over the place.

Nanny's words made Janie's kiss across the gatepost seem like a manure pile after a rain

Hatred is as easy as slipping on a well-worn woolen cloak. If only it provided the comfort of one.