The dimensions are folding,
Mold in the basement, my breathing hasn’t been golden.
Though tragic the story, I forgot to write the ending
Of a sick little kid, who’s gotten rather good at pretending.
Mention not - here’s a token:
The more revolting your thoughts, the more glorious your potion.
Everything I say contains a tint of that poison.

Hello my lifeline.

I hope the suffering is manageable.  If you don’t see the light, just breathe and wait.  You’ll see it eventually.

In my experience, I always saw life through a microscope.  Dissecting - every path, every decision - to the densest part of its core.  For what? For personal satisfaction.  For peace of ego.  I am sorry to disappoint you, but the part of you that wants to know every answer will never have enough.  

As I write this to you (a bit prematurely, I might add), I think about what has truly mattered to me in my life thus far.  Laughter. Sunlight. Deep embraces, especially with women.  But just as important have been the tensions and the moments of immense pressure.  Good is only relative to how well you can endure the bad, my son. To be honest, I am not able to cry as much as I wish I could.  Sometimes, I think my feelings don’t work as good as others.  

I tell you all this to arrive at the greatest defeat of my life.  The time I let my ego make the ruling, and my soul beared the eternal consequence.  I had a father quite similar to yours.  He was stubborn.  That’s what I remember most about him.  One difference between him and I was that we didn’t trust each other.  But you and I, we do.  I hope.  At some point in our journey, I had the choice to choose love, choose God towards my father.  To be a kind man to a battered one.  I decided against it.  I pitied myself.  I was bitter.  It was the wrong decision.  

Now, I realize how an intelligent man like yourself might interpret this message as extortion.  Your old man wants to insure his son will listen to him when I’m old.  This is not the case.  This message is just an opportunity to say I love you and I’m human.  You are healing me, simply by being.  I wish my father could have said this to me.


With Love,
Dad

I’ve spent the last 2 days speaking to a glass of wine.  She has many smudges and imperfections, and her deep gaze beckons me to think of her alone.  She only wishes one thing - to disappear into me and vanquish my thirst.  She knows better than I what is good for me and what is bad for me.  I know nothing.  Nothing at all.  I have only just learned to feel.  Knowledge is a much further horizon.   And as the stars surround my being I think about calling her, my glass.  What a thought.  A thought that ignites perhaps a nuclear explosion of actions and reactions.  I only have a few breaths to find myself now or I’m gone forever.   Looking away like her presence doesn’t exist in my chambers.  Every inch of her beauty stitched carefully into my heart, by the master seamstress with hands more steady than stone.
And so I look back, noticing how she’s gotten darker in her spirit over these past two days.  That’s what this life can do to you, even in the open air, and even while being caressed by my softest hands.  My heart has been aching for some time - For her, because of her, because of me.  Not the kind of ache that compliments tears but one that brings along with it still, coldness…