Letters to Lauren
14 APR 2026
Dear Lauren,
last night, in the midst of tickling you with my whiskers before bed, I realized my cleverness of words would not solve the problem having to, one day, take you down by the river and show you my bones.
That kiss we shared made me ecstatic to know in the very far future, when I am nearly 100 years old and you still look 26 I would be arriving at my point of my return, and you will be forced to see me for what I have truly been all along, a ghost looking to lead itself to the doorstep of heaven, using nothing but the strength of your love to live so long.
To know that a man could dream without having to endure despair but love, I would not have been so aware of my supernatural abilities if it was not for how you caressed me with your heart.
No matter if the lights were on or off, you Somehow show me the eternity of where your love for me is formed and reborn every day I should always feel the ways of indebtedness, because there is no way to pay back the infinities of love you store in Your heart.
forever and ever
love
-X
17 APR 2026
Dear Lauren,
Living in the city is killing me, but it has also brought me closer to an ugly reality I have come to embrace.
My stomach is eating my back, and I enjoy the loud rumbles while I seep into the words of infinite wonder.
I wonder how many more seconds of my life the city will steal from me, waiting in traffic, breathing in the toxins and fumes of capitalism that help my body flourish.
How could I leave the city?
I’m hooked on poisonous drugs and sugars, maintaining all the antibodies being tamed here.
Savory facades are built and torn down every day in the city; this is the place where the fallen angels wine and dine.
I run into them often, letting them take minutes from me; those devils replenish efforts with a smile and a handshake, on their way they go.
Black suits, black ties, and black vegan-leather suitcases stain my existence; there is no meaning here in the city.
But it is still beloved, I must turn the other way to search for the old town road.
There is hope of meeting God, or perhaps even the Devil.
As long as I meet someone, that’s all I care about.
20 APR 2026
Dear Lauren,
I tried to find the moon, but the clouds kept it hidden.
I tried to find it, but I couldn’t.
I tried to find something smaller than myself, but I couldn’t reach it.
I tried to hate, but I ended up loving.
I tried to find time, but I ran out of it. I tried to be mean, but I ended up being kind.
I tried to look backward, but I only moved forward.
I tried to sit down only to stand up again, searching for nothing.
I tried not to write this, but I already did.
30 APR 2026
Dear Lauren,
I saw in the desert, your open sky. Smiling like a crowned princess, playing cards with angels.
We have ran through mountains, like the world knew our name.
The clergy has agreed to anoint our love outside time.
And now a moon has passed, fruits have reached maturity, water bodies have immersed into cooking pavements, and fall has become white powdery balls of lint.
In the passages of weeks, I have watched the walls in our nest-sized apartment turn pale from jealousy of our mirrors.
Gracefully poised to capture, luminescent beauty.
Your words have been carried by doves and sold to the finest lyrical salesmen.
Not only I, but the world will sing your soliloquy.
1 MAY 2026
Dear Lauren,
I sent the amber train of whiskey chugging, I sent my farewells to a place that knew me better than I knew myself.
The bottom of the barrel teaches a universal lesson. A drunk dog reveals a finger-licking faith, which is instilled into him by the genie swimming in the great seas of passion.
Lusting for self, lusting for the shadow lying on his back, strip-teasing itself at the shore of muddy waters.
Caressing himself in the drapes of his own warmth until he is reborn and dragged back to light from the abyss of that great genie he found.
The “unexplained” is where I go through my archive of secrets.
I am currently saving until I am dissolved into the crevice of nature.
God will appear again when I am distracted by the pain of life.
All art lies in man, but is by far apparent; during my time alive, I thought more about before being born, I was already dead, and during my time alive, I am more of an idea.