Dear friend,
I couldn't find the answer today, for why the world is turning. A half-dozen lovers in a timeless frame, are now but bridges burning. The coffee makes me feel like hell in the morning, whenever morning is an option. You see, I've fallen for a misery, I have become the local burden. They invite me out to harmonise their doubt, over trends we have seen before; the brief salute from a military brute; the human cost of war.
It's been a misery for days and days – weeks and weeks if I tell the truth, but I have been baying at the nail, and sharpening the tooth. I think money is a postcard lover who promises salvation, but in truth can only under-achieve against cigarettes and meditation. The Bowl has been singing to me, but I cannot understand a word, at times I think I hear the answer, or else the passing of an airborne ****.
Forgive me for crudeness, or for my vague choice of tone, I am kissing my pillow in my sleep, but waking up all alone. From that I have decided that I've got to ask for more, so I am slipping up my sentences, to become a well-spoken bore. I hope you find the answer each time you sip on tea, some heat upon your lips and tongue, some red blossoms on the tree.
I am going now I promise you, I'm serving out my time, I am going to hang out with my father, I'm going to chase it down with wine. For all the good I had desired to do, I am committed to this crime, don't drink in bed, do drugs instead, and do not forget to write.
with love.
Jack.
c