Every pretty girl deserves to go to a ball, and every guy deserves to take one. And I love a girl. I like a girl. And I've loved this girl since I was 10 years old. And I don't deserve a godamn thing and she doesn't want anything but her pride. I have never been able to describe her in a way that does her justice, without talking about that other girl, that doesn't exist, but now.. I still can't. She's on a stage writing quirky satire and I'm.. More alive. But less alive, because she has herself and I don't have her.

So I can't describe her. And I can't love her and I can't write poems about her but her thighs and her mind and head and.. Voice still.. Fqck thqt.

-

"well," eclaimed Wendy, shocked, "of all the cocky, concieted boys! Of course i did nothing!"
"Oh, you did a little, perhaps," he answered carelessly.
"A little!" repeated Wendy, and she returned to her bed in a dignified manner, covering up her head with the blankets. Peter was rather alarmed. he told her that he couldn't help crowing when he was pleased with himself, and that one girl was more use than twenty boys.
This melted Wendy's heart. She came out of the blankets again, and sat with Peter on the side of the bed. She also offered to give him a kiss if he liked: and Peter held out his hand for it. Wendy saw at once that the poor boy had never had a kiss: so, not to hurt his feelings, she took off her tumble and put it on his finger. He was ever so pleased.
"Now shall I give you a kiss?" he asked: and he dropped into her hand an acorn button off his coat. Wendy fastened it to the little chain she wore around her neck. It was a hard sort of kiss, but so was her thimble.

-

Peter Pan and Wendy, J.M. Barrie

Pacific Coast Highway - Sonic Youth

-

Come on get in the car. Let's go for a ride somewhere. I won't hurt you. As much as you hurt me. Let me take you there. Before the sun goes down. Come on give me your love. I wanna take your breath away. Come on give me your love. Come on baby, all you have. Just like that you say, you make me so craaaazzyyyyyy. Come on get in the car. Let's go for a drive somewhere. I won't hurt you. As much as you hurt me. Come on baaaby, You make me feel so craaaazzyyyyyy.

-

Anitque, Arthur Rimbaud

-

Gracieux Fils de Pan! Autour de ton front couronné de fleurettes et de baies, tes yeux, des boules précieuses, remuent. Tachées de lies brunes, tes joues se creusent. Tes crocs luisent. Ta poitrine ressemble à une cithare, des tintement circulent dans tes bras blonds. Ton coeur bat dans ce ventre où dort le double sexe. Promène-toi, la nuit, en mouvant doucement cette cuisse, cette seconde cuisse et cette janbe de gauche.

gorgeous son of Pan! Beneath your brow crowned with flowers and berries, your eyes, these precious balls, move around. Streaked with coarse brown, your cheeks look hollow. Your fangs gleam. Your chest looks like a lyre, jingling sounds are moving in your blond arms. Your hearts beating in this belly where the double sex sleeps. Walk around, at night, slowly moving this thigh, then this other thigh, and then this left leg.