Those Who Love are Sad

I merely watch Alan Alda on the TV as Brynn brushes her teeth - I will come to bed … “Bob”. “Yeah”. “I love you”. “I love you, too, nut” - I am not a very good writer. Brynn is so scared. The last episode of Mash - forensics - Kevin Costner & sadness. The little covers grope for my hand as I clutch desperately for my lill fish who is in need whilst I sit plaintively on this bed and wish I could show all the world what pernicious angst I have broiling inside.

But hey - the curls on the head of my littlest fiwsh dominate all which may try to intrude on their beauty. I love you, Brynn. These words, though scratched incoherently - prove, by seminal means that turly there is a power who guides us purposely together. Sad … those who love are sad.

Brynn: It’s a sad (illegible) … so sad I want (illegible). I (illegible) in the (illegible) - wary(?) I (illegible…) To incohere (?) it. I am naked in your bedclothes (illegible). Eyes salty (?) and labia ready. You’re drunk, too - (illegible) does it matter? We’re all weak.

You are correct. We’re all weak!

WEAK

I am the storm!

The nose is the same width as the eye. It rests from the eyes to the mouth -

There is no inspiration in frustration.