I heard you cry dear brother.

I heard you cry and wanted to drink your tears and let the pain into my body.

I wanted your anguish to rush through my veins like the French mob never letting the wealthy sleep well, like lions around the prancing gazelles

I just wish I could never get a good night's sleep because dreams don't belong where brothers are unwell

I don't ask for much brother,

- just a smile and  your tears in a jar.



This is untrue my friend. I do wish for much.

I want the whole world at my fingertips the

Great Wall of China under my feet

starched collars and

Coach neckties I want everything I can squeeze out of Mother Nature before she collapses into a cloud of pink bubbles with nothing inside.



But you dear brother, you do not want the Great Wall beneath you but merely not around you. You just want to be able to keep your door open without fearing someone might see you wipe your cheekbones clean. And I, I apologize for not being there every time it closes to burst through with all my wishes compiled into one but I'm not that strong.

I'm not man enough to understand that wishes for gold mean nothing that no matter if I piled them together would they make one for your health

        -    I can't even see that I love my good night's sleep more than I love your smile



Forgive me.



This is why I write to you brother. I might not be strong enough to sip your pain away, but I want you to keep a jar in case I come to my senses before you find me hanging from my neckties.



If I do I'll drink them with a funny face.

Maybe then I could hear you laugh.