Dears and Observation

Daisy,

The squirrelling quest for pure redemption, for enlightenment of soul, is an ever-evolving task. Love handles, being the epitome of simplistic admiration, is nothing short of a Wonderland, truly overjoyed with uneasy dedication. When all is broken, when all the pieces have fallen tragically apart, when being worn from insomnia is a daily activity, we discover the paste to tie it all back into communion. Though the final product may still be broken, worn, and searching for redemption, it proudly smooches the lips of a new beginning, turns the knob to the door of the future, and secedes a most melancholy past.

--Eve

Daisy,

Is it in that moment, that you know you've fallen in love, that time suddenly seizes from ticking, that miles graciously disappear, that you're bitter coffee beans jump around in a shiny, jumpy way that they never had..that you feel as if you've lost your entire chest, and formed a completely satisfied person, simultaneously? Or does it get better after that?

Love,

Eve

OBSERVATION

"the very distinguishable, ever-persisting form of love, settles only in the souls of those who never sought it out."

--Rosita

Daisy,

She, in perpetuum, transpired to be of jazzy soul, of swinging "shroominess." She composed an article inferring towards the class of homey virtues, past Friday. What a mystery, before me, she lies, behind a 20's flapper dress, and aged cup of Joe.

Love, Eve

Edward Derby,

At times, I feel you reverberate in these places.The green-grape stars whisper no letters, no parchment, but perhaps a thing much more real; Hope: A nutrient that conserves any bohemian life. It travels correspondent to snail mail, but takes time in order to collect blue funk joy through the energy of the universe; At times, my sweet, at times like this.

Love Always, Keeb

Daisy,

Prophetic raspberries float about such literature, bursting into a circus-like firework show. They tell me of sprouting summer, and clammy winter. How they aspire the snow would fall again, to place them into bedtime fantasies.

Love, Eve

Observation

The rise and fall of conversation alone, what a fancy. As the segragated pods of populism arrive at the climax of suspenseful language, the consequent volume corresponds.

Dear Humanity,

Words of circumstance, of wisdom, truth, emotion, of liberty; Have they gone "hide and seeking"? Where to go from present, what to do from stagnicity, who to love from complexity; unanswered questions of the frightening events to come. Send me stars, deliver me hammocks, internalize sunrises and sets; travel my Gatsby's, to an urban gathering of re-initiation.

Love, epf.

Loody,

The fire enveloped betwixt an unescorted spirit, can only persist to perform acts of fake love, so long. When such an inclination is to be about, what a deception, what crap-pot waste of potential, it continually proves to define. Then, why we collect cognitive evidence of our existence synonymous, do we export to pitiful hibernation? Dreaming of the transcedentalistic, true love, everlasting in consistent form of imagination, is a clear disappoint upon waking. And, love, we're in a rut again.

Dear Edward Derby,

A thought dropped by to "visit" this past chilling morn..

tribuing with love.

What purpose do green backs truly serve? Why not an embrace for a mug of coffee? Why not a smooch of appreciation for a pouch of tangerines? Why excuse a wink of a zany eye in return for a pair of woolly mittens?

in the words of the greatest men that ever lived and loved..

"All you need is love"

Always, Keeb

My dear sweet Sophia,

What a gem, you are. Such pride and inevitable "cuteness" you behold to the exercise of existence. Your gray paws click-clack on tile underneath, as your puppy charm gleams through tried eyes.Johnny shows a timid admiration toward you, I'm silently sure. While your vague snout tells no prevalent tale, neither does his vocal proceedings. It's quite a drag, you know. As my long time lover, he has the ability to see clear through me, just a soon as his foundation between souls is much too consistent for my ever changing perception to peel apart.

From one earthly companion, to the next,

much love,

Eve.

Dear Edward Derby,

The world has withdrew from me. The inhibitions, the energy, the life. My unit, my collective mass, is indefinitely, solitary.

It's the exact matter of consisting alone that delivers a great fright in us all. To invest your clock time in the adventure of self-realization, comes at a sizable cost of companionship, normality, and complacency. When we comprise in ourselves, the face of denial, the silence of truth, and path to exile from such, we have become acquainted with introductory seclusion.

Only in the long, sought out event of a legdiment, pure, "mind, at piece," can we re-connect with the inequalities of interaction.

Always, Keeb

Observation (for Kinsey)

Consumptionary items transacted from Old China town tempt my taste buds. Ancient confidants, from calm origins call to me in confident ache of companionship. The world, from a front porch step, sings to me, melodies of sugary simplicity and supports my adventure for perceptions not witnessed. If only I were in the presence of Mac, she'd conjugate lucky clovers in multitudes. But, here I gather my thoughts of plenty underneath purple tennis shoes, never knowledgeable of the consequence of such words.