"I'm four sheets to the wind, and I'm glad you're gone. I'm glad you're gone, but I wish you'd come home... cause the dawn was cracking hard just like a... and my old sportcoat full of promissory notes... kicking your ass in a cold-blooded fashion... " - tom waits
I just wrote someone that they could do worse than be infatuated with me. I believe this. Fuck yeah.
I may hurt a man/woman with my emotional diarrhea, but there must be some fertile plain upon which they could seed upon me.