Blurbling.

There was fog then, in the darkness I could still muster a semblance of a face, a face like your face but I didn't know what it looked like yet, in the middle of the day, the way I know now, and now I see it all the time without a body, without anything but falling and it's just not that way. And we are with other people sometimes and we are alone so much more often without anybody knowing, without me knowing for sure. And I'm not sure yet that THAT is what is going on and I am not sure yet if I know who I am talking about, but when I woke up one morning, the fog lifted and God's golden stare came shooting out of my pores exactly like how you would hope it would.

So now I ask you this: LET ME IN.

Sometimes, when I am with myself in words like the way I am now, I am away from fog and from me but I am always in it except for months it was somebody else writing and hoping I would catch up. I remember when you wrote all the negative thoughts you had thought and threw them away, I could feel myself being ripped up and thrown away--- and it was weird because I don't even know what you wrote. And I am not mad about it. It was just something I could feel.

I am still sorting things out, but there will be a small apartment and a place where I can write. And there will be a stillness and a sound here. I will invite you over and even a casual conversation will feel exactly like cuddling.