A letter from Oct 25, 2022

In soul and in flesh, you dare to suffer. Not for its own sake, but blinded in light of the tireless beauty that guides the crashing tides of your purest soul. Emerge with adventure against the scolding gold grips of sin; a deep-dug dirt coffin suffocatingly trapped were you in. Crawl cold from ***** to colorful leaves, beat treasures within, in perfect rhythms do you burst, blurring lines between shiny heavenly seeds and the soils of a cursed and spoiled earth... fruits wait with such peace to be found. Razor sharpness, an electric buzz of the fuzzy circuit between which your head dizzily strikes about, did plug lightning once dead to conduct and give way for you to blink away from your eyes the heavy lens of conviction, a gasped cloud of drywall, a puffy pocket of sand, and a roughly dusted croc, grounded in lies and in fiction, clouded and high with its diction, demonic dungeons derived in delectable delusions drawing human depictions done with dolls and pollutions. Weather the rocks and dissipate the burdens and burst from the clock that murmurs to hurt your locks against crystals and bourbons. Step unto grounds which have yet to prove their support. The limitations of your mind will forever contort. Truth sets loose the feet unto fields of perplexing, lifelong adventure.