It is almost three and I want your insides.

It is late and I have never loved odd numbers.

should be reading for public policy. instead i'm here again. comforted by the white screen and the quick click clicking of black keys. even when i'm not typing i move my fingers around and tap gently. i like the quick clicks.

I just asked God what He thought about my writing. He told me to go to bed.

It was 222 and you were my wish.

I write because I am scared of being forgotten.

spring will come with squishy mud
and darling buds
and shorter sleeves.