an open letter to meat space #1, so-called

Oh beauteous one, I got distracted. 
.. no, that's not true...

Oh my darlin, I don't know where I've been.
...no, that's not true neither...

Wishing. Yearning. Burning myself up, out, through.
.. closer, yes, warmer now...

frank admission:

I thought I could reproduce you inside myself. I went and turned myself inside out looking for your 
kind of quiet, your sort of gloom, your brand of excellent shut-up-and-be-still, it didn't
happen not yet. and now I have to 
earn and burn my way back to you meanwhile you're throwing
down your blooms and cranking out unseen greens from the dark of your veins haphazard and generous well
go ahead. I am not there to catch you or stop you, I glide by incognito many times a day and trust me
you look good. you look all ways of good. I tremble out of the corners of my eyes and feel the weight of my unworth, and you are to blame, you triangular portion of this mighty dirtball called home.

I will catch up with you. It won't be the same, it won't be as if no time as passed, it won't
be as if at all. It will just be. 

Meanwhile trust me with myself, seeking you inside, to fail longingly yours, belongingly yours, your unconditional support is not like anything else.

thank you for checking after me darlin meat space #1 so-called.

till soon, I remain.
F.O.O.L.