he hit me and I was glad

He hit me and it felt like a kiss.

sleepy strangers

your face:
pitter-patter,
pitter-patter and the butterflies awaken,
their wings tickle my ribcage,
borrow the strength from my knees.

sleepy strangers,
thieves i find myself wanting to meet,
wanting to give,
and wanting to keep.

favre's pass vs. balls of gas

satellites float two-faced
as they interlace their fingers with the stars,
whisper sweet nothings into their dusty ears,
only to shadow their brilliance
with the images of adultery that they project
upon screens far too large for reason.

clueless

December 15th, 2007: "His nose turns upward slightly and his smile affects his face in the most attractive manner. There is something about him. It's past physical, I know it. My name sounds so pleasant, parting his lips. Ashley. I've spent my entire life asking, "Why, dad?"s and in disgust, tallying the amount of girls who responded to my name. But my name is new and very peculiar in his mouth. I think, had he summoned me by name in a room of of Ashleys, every other girl would continue her ministrations. "Ashley" draped in his particular vibrations is very specifically for me.

It's not new and it's entirely new."