i wrote 'i love you' backwards on your chest while you were sleeping. later when you went into the bathroom you shut the door and did not come out for a long time

i connected the freckles on your back and they look like Boris Yeltsin

if we were to lie down in the desert room together i would put my fingers into the sand until i found yours and we would say nothing and trace the outlines of the iron with our eyes shut

nothing will ever be good enough. not even you.


you are chopped white mushrooms and i am slivered truffles


you are the ultimate lips touch and then i wake up dream

ladehoff photo shoot

good looks run in the family. just kidding.


if you were a Bic pen i would always hold you in my hand,
even if you exploded.

you are the ultimate warm bed in wintertime.