LETTERS

iv

to gold

everyone i touch seems to turn to dust.

so i will love you, choke you, strangle you until you flicker away in my hands.

oh, the possibilities!

(ropes, mainly, of desire, death, and betrayal.)

for you have faded in my mind's eye, and you have disappeared.

for you idle, and i do not hate you for this fault, since all idle at some point, and you may be doing backstage work, god only knows.

the point is, i don't love you, not anymore. maybe someday i will again.

and i won't miss you, that's the final point.

maybe you won't die, maybe you will, and maybe your likeness may not live though your soul survives.

but they all plummet, all the men and women i touch, and they all turn to dust.

meanwhile, thank you, and god rest your soul. (bush sounds, honey, they twist)

sincerely, patrick

(can you smell the teen angst from here? - M)