I always wish
That hand-writing
A letter
Didn’t go out of style.

I miss the excitement
Of getting something in the mail.
Opening a hand addressed envelope
And reading the words sent to me.

But now
All I get in the mail
Is bills and unwanted
Or needed, advertisements.

+91364727-37474838

BLACK MAGIC, **** YOUR WIFE, **** A TEENAGER, *** TO MOUTH, FREE PROSTATE EXAM.


Try writing from your heart, with a hand that won't  quit shaking, and lungs that might explode from anxiousness, only to see your words
be drowned out by a combination of words made to make cents, but heavy lacking on sense. A mind that cycles is like a firefight with your synapses looking for that spark. It's electrifying and mind-blowing, these moods that take months to overcome. Electrifying are the manic months, ones where you hide bank statements, where you penetrate a woman both mind and body. Mind-blowing is the depression, and the barrel of a pistol clenched between your teeth, as you open up your junk mail hopelessly searching for a letter sealed with a kiss.
But it doesn't exist.

Hey! You got mail
And I hope that without fail
That this makes your day
Because this is a unique way
of having a conversation.
Something of our own creation
to actually put pencil to paper
to let thoughts form and thoughs taper
It's more permanent than a text
because you won't read it this day or the next
it's the delayed gratification
the building anticipation
the surprise of not getting a bill
that makes writing to you such a thrill

I say good bye ten hundred times a day.
If a could catch a glimpse of you looking my way.
A positive High
Hello

mailing with you
is between a song from Jack Johnson
with different feelings

from sitting, waiting, wishing
to reading, writing, listening
to sitting, waiting, wishing