I've had it with
symbols. And I don't have enough to send: a necklace, a tape; they are
precious to me but easily forgotten.
I know what you are like. And this is what I want for you: Fire water
earth and sky. Couldn't afford the postage. I caught
the scent of Jesus when I was falling asleep. I wanted to bottle it, so you could tell, could know what I'm saying when I say I bathe nightly in
white, white light, so maybe you could smell it on me, so may be it would
be what it used to be, only more. Like falling down. You would have paid good money for this. I think you are thinking I don't know what I mean here; I am talking out of line. I want a
letter bomb, more like a
love bomb, to set you on fire, only inside, so you never cry or shirk or doubts again, even if my words add up to less than nothing.
And they always do...