Undercover. (Under the covers)

I miss you. I miss you terribly. I miss writing letters and the anticipation of your eyes receiving my words. I miss you.

I could sign my name but only use one. Nothing mysterious, my identity would be found immediately. but you already knew it was me. (Sleuth.)
Unknown research.
Im okay with knowledge of my own. I barely need to be okay with what you know as fact.
Disaster. Followthrough.
2 things we have in common. Fearful of comaraderie.
Poor fish.

Do you know who writes? Do know the heart of your lover? Do you know the drive?
What is your cost? The pricetag is made by your hand. the investment is what you make of it. Plainly. The organization of isolation?
You were a poor pupil when it came to learn about me. "Learn too much."
Poor fish.



In his heart, exhalt himself.
Still plotting. Hungry for evolution. Ready for change. Liberal as a lifestyle. Looking into the future. Sitting with the fortune teller at the fair. The braids were real. I saw them.
With a special area for the dogs. When I can use your money to buy groceries for us.
while I dont live in this house with ghosts and blurs. I live with flesh and blood.
That live in joy knowing they feed my supply of healthy ego. Im not ashamed.
I dont think: "Thats where the ghost stood."



I dont examine certain dates on the sarcophagus any more. I dont bother the Egyptians and hyroglifiics. I create my own. I write on my own walls, with scientists hungry on my trail of thought. (anthropologists would suggest the past, not address the future.)



Fascinated by the obscure. Knowing the sounds were barking, howling, true needs.



I survived just as well standing on a log, in the middle of the river.
Raging and calm underneath, I admire this river. Willing and alive.
Unafraid of the creeks and streams that create the mighty force.
Ultimately, this body longs for more. More to cover. Outgrows the banks.
Longs to feel the branches of the trees.
Had grown so large the body must find its way to the sea. Then as the sea is
boundless, the eyes look up.
The discussion begins as a simple leg race.

I bet I belong there. Above.
The body grows. Longing to be more.
Growing.
Like the beanstalk.
And doesnt care for your human dust.



Dreamed the cure. Cure complete. A truely good heart.



> Paradise Lost. <