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...

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