“cleared of misconduct” by Sasha on the couch in Mississauga


Tuesday December 23, 2014
11:34am
5 minutes
from The Telegraph
December 22, 2014


Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, today I’m here to tell you about a man. He’s not a hero. He’s not a villain. He’s a man. A simple man. A man who often forgets to drink enough water. A man who shovels the driveways of everyone on his street before the sun’s even risen, before anyone knows that it’s snowed. Before you is a man that’s been dealt a tough hand, a hand that has begged more of him than our hands have begged of us. I want you to close your eyes. I want to think of yourself at twenty three. Maybe you smoked cheap cigarettes. Maybe you were in love with your first real girlfriend or boyfriend. Maybe it was the first time you didn’t get home for Christmas… I want you to think about how you dreamed then, how you felt about war, how you liked your coffee.

“Auditions for the part of” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Saturday, September 6, 2014
10:03pm
5 minutes
from a tweet

He has a scar on his hand
the kind where you can see the stitches
the kind that looks like someone drew it there
with white-out

He has lady hands
which undermine the scar
I guess
His nails are longer than I’d like
But no one asked me

He has pock marks on his face
I wonder what it says about his teenage years
I wonder if they hurt
I wonder if he stood
bloody-faced
Wanting to shed his skin

He scratches under his left eye
I follow his fingers
His eyes are brown
Darker than when he first arrived
Darker than his childhood
Darker now that time is heavy
and the moon is full

“STORE AWAY FROM HEAT SOURCES” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Saturday November 9, 2013
11:21pm
5 minutes
from the side of a box

He’s the kind of guy that drinks something different every week. Once it was orange juice. Once it was apple juice. Once! Diet Coke. And then tonight? Cranberry cocktail. Hard to believe someone could be so varied in their likes, have such an assortment of inspiration. He wears black rimmed glasses, in an un-hip way. One of his ears sticks out more than the other. He has curly blonde hair, that’s cut short, so it’s more the potential or the promise of curl and not curls in reality. He listens with his eyes closed, or, rather, he wish he could. He only does with his truest and best friends, or, that’s what I imagine.