Highlighted Like a Fact

sitting on the floor, 
throwing cigarette butts 
up towards the disco ball. 
their red tips look like 
lipsticked fish kissing 
the shards of mirrored glass that fit 
so clumsily amidst it's sphere. 
i watch the smoke catch the light 
and i allow the beauty to explode into me. 
i feel the airy ways flick at me like tentacles 
on a radioactive jellyfish 
and i am certain that if anything makes sense, 
it is this right now. 
the scratch of the lighter signifies light, 
and as if a horny teenager 
desperate for alone time, 
i am highlighted like a fact in a textbook.