Oregon, how I've missed you.
When I'm driving through the trees, and I see heaven in the burnt landscape. I smell the flames of the pacific northwest, and I just might cry, I just might break down, but I will always be strong enough here. Though anywhere else, I'm as weak as I've ever been, and my tendons hold no power, when I jump the state lines.
But Oregon, I have to say, this car can barely make it through the pass! And despite the blizzard, which threatens my longevity, I still feel your white noise, pumping through the veins in my body, and the scar tissue on my hands, from your amphetamine in a distant memory. When I soar through the valley, passing the lakes by the interstate, your sound becomes a crowd of thousands.
Oregon, do you remember? The train tracks through the forgotten fields, when my blood was on a low simmer, and my skin would crack, only in winter. It would always begin the same, with dirt and fertilizer, water and seed. The damp bark would cover your spoiled land, and I had never been so momentary.
Oregon, I swear this, a thousand times over, that I would do anything to be with you right now, because I hate where I've ended up. Though I know this is all my fault, and I resent any actions I've taken, because I will never be with you again. Only in passing time, in moments of glory, will I ever feel your hands on my body.
Oh Oregon, please believe me, I've made a thousand mistakes, but no matter the cost, I'll be seeing you soon, if I have to walk for miles along the highway. Even if blisters and open wounds cover my feet, I will never stop, for where I am now is desolate, and meaningless. They will never understand, and that's perfectly fine.
I miss you more than ever, Oregon, and I will always remember. As I reside in this vessel, which hides all I've done, and the crimes I've committed, the sins I've indulged. If nothing exists in present time, that's just fine.
But Oregon, this will never remedy my conscience, because I can't sleep at four in the morning, and your memories haunt my dreams. The taunting of the rainstorm, as I lay here in dry elevations, and my town is shrouded in pain. My walls glimmer in the dark, as if each one is projecting old images of you, even when I close my eyes. But my walls melt in the sunlight.
Oregon, I have to ask, how are you? I need you to know, that I've burned all of my bridges and broken every connection. Because now I've lived in a million places, I've felt love for a million people, and coming down the hill, I've never been so exhausted, because you are the only one I have ever admired.
Sweet Oregon, I could really use you right now. I hope this letter makes it to you, though I have a feeling you will never read this, and that realization hurts more than anything.
But maybe things will work out, what do you think?
I love you, forever and always.
