Quotes from Richard Siken

I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time. a stone in the hand means somebody's angry, the stone inside you still hasn't hit bottom.

Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you. Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

We used to dream about them. We used to do a lot of things.

Explaining will get us nowhere.

The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell.

There's nowhere to go , I thought. There's nowhere to go.

A man walks into a bar and says: Take my wife–please. But you take him instead.

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn't do

here we are at the place where I get to beg for it, where I get to say Please, just for one night, will you lie down next to me

I had four dreams in a row where you were burned, about to burn, or still on fire.

how you get used to it, how you make the new streets yours.

I crawled out the window and ran into the woods. I had to make up all the words myself. The way they taste, the way they sound in the air. I passed through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled around for awhile, and stumbled back out. I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't the kingdom then I don't know what is.

If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder.

You asked me once, What are we made of? Well, these are the things we're made of. One house, two house. The road goes away from here.

Let's say you're driving down the road with your eyes closed but my eyes are also closed.

Willpower, gunpowder, concussive thunder. Pink, orange, red, orange dreaming red.

The body swerves in the service of the mind, which is evidence of the mind but not actual proof.

Disappear and save everyone the bother of a dark suit.

You swallow my heart and flee, but I want it back now, baby. I want it back.

I know you want me to say it . . . it's in the script, you want me to say Lie down on the bed, you're all I ever wanted and worth dying for, too . . .

Do you want it? Do you want anything I have?

Will you throw me to the ground like you mean it

Forget about his insides, his plumbing and his furnaces, put a thing in his hand and be done with it. No one wants to know what's in his head. It should be enough. To make something beautiful should be enough. It isn't. It should be.

The machine of the world- if you don't grab on, you begin to tremble. And if you do grab on, then everything trembles.