neither life nor location have permitted of late. i am doing my penance with late-night types and flagging eyes.
a boy has infected my sanity. he has stolen my words and whichever ones are left me will not rest on a page until they are his. i am a stranger to this, this beingful longing, this woozy, achey, syrupy desire for another's body. what spell did he weave, that night of blue light and sexy song, when he prowled my peripheries and i loathed him a little?
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