Honey, you arent a soulmate waiting to happen. You're love waiting to happen. So go, kiss your lover like a run-on sentence. and I promise not to interrupt becoming a dream whispering throughout your mind. Because love is nothing but a grass lined path. through a forest that leads to a city that leads to the ocean that leads past smiling criminals on death row and homosexuals being beaten with crowbars and a man wearing a sequined dress in front of crowd waving bottles of ale...and past the sad empty eyesockets of someones arms shot up by heroin. Because, that could be you darling, That could be you inside of that syringe...being a mans addiction, being the cause of a mans shaking arms reading a porno at the far end of the PCH.

Saboda hold my heart and I can repeat good morning to anyone as used up as me. You saw me without judgement, with something all-shaking as Love, which everyone has been acting like they are afraid of using. Yet its really quite easy to be wrapped up in white and its really quite easy to manufacture your own feathered wings and its really quite easy to strap anyone you want in an electric chair. But honey, I would never do that to you, so why are you doing that to everyone else? You are no better...you know it wont go nowhere. And I want you to know your lack of destination is like a broken steering wheel but there is noone else on the road.

Thank you for allowing me to call you honey. Noone wants to attract bees to themselves anymore. because it is so hard. It is so hard to admit your wrong and that you have forgotten your beekeeper suit and you are waving streaming your arms crying for help.

I think now this man they call God...is a tiny figure in a calender holding an umbrella on the pavement and shouting "October!"