I know why I write, because your nails break Typee my name, do not think I've seen, at least in a painting I saw him tending to a woman in a condo when I saw it from the bus, bus storm that overwhelms me every day tragic and heavy for dams kilometer from east to west, which lead me other dreams where you're a tree or a melon ... I'm the cartridge you left on the Mall, the fourth who fell down the drain and I did not care because you had another, fuzzy but real, as the reality of the songs when you go out of style and hummed to remind us that "once was better than now, "my heaven pity not invite me to the movies because you know that I become the bogeyman and take you to my cave, a candy store east of the city where the bread is always hot and you have to wait a little while. .. Maybe you do not like virtual and prefer to send messages before the letters, written with Bic pens provided by other lovers who arranged to leave because I chased pouring my dogs brave but smart because they do not urinate on the carpet ... ah that reminds me what you like, be like a cat waiting for me on the carpet that you let your grandmother when she went to heaven ... I understand your sensitivity "here do not love" you said .. and ran to the bathroom, "here is better, as in swimming pool" ... I miss you today more than ever, you will know how to get to all the Americans in Iraq, gasoline down once and for all, bring the cheese on the moon ... do not sleep well, having his tongue hanging out. ..
