#9:05pm

there is a moth who lives in my loft. he flew in through my front door yesterday and i said to him, hey little buddy, you don’t want to be in here, but then i thought, maybe he’s cold, and look how many lights there are in here for him to flutter round. let him stay. so i closed the door behind me and smoked my spliff, and i hoped that it was my grandpa coming to visit or my grandma, or savannah, or hunter. maybe hunter saw my ripstiks through the window and remembered the weekends we spent riding around our empty elementary school, he on his skateboard. i climbed the stairs/ladder into my loft last night, unlocked my phone and saw him follow the light. i hoped he was having the best night of his life, all cozy and warm with me. i didn’t think he would be around today. i (silly me) thought there wasn’t anything for him to eat in here. how could i forget the tiny bugs that live in my hanging windowsill plants? and the tiny bugs that sneak through the cracks of my walls, crawl in through the gap beneath my door? there is a moth who lives in my loft and when i go to bed, he comes to say goodnight. he sits with me a while. then, when i click my phone screen to black, he makes his way back towards the window, pacing across the mesh screen, aching for the streetlights of the trailer park. i think about cupping him in my hands, carrying him down my ladder/stairs, letting him out the door to chase light some more. i think he is happy, though, catching bugs on the screen, and i am happy, too. i like his company.

once again we will be done