I wish I could feel the wind from where I am. It's pretty much dark all the time unless the old woman opens the roof. Then its too bright. Occassionally I can hear the laughter and playful screams of children and it reminds me of our days on the boardwalk. We didn't have a care in the world, didn't we? I used to shout and bang at the walls and all it did was kick up dust. I would choke on the mothballs. But I gave up. Please leave the kaleidascope just for a bit and rescue me. I want our wonderful times on the boardwalk again.
I used to watch you and danny play on the boardwalk. I wished that i could come join you.. but i was afriad that you would reject my friendship. I hope that your days are going better than ive heard they had been. Summer is coming up on us pretty quick. When i come back to the states, I'm going to look you up and give you a call. We can do meth and heroin and stroll down East Burndan St. like i have always dreamed of. But those dreams are long gone. Can you help me to find them?
Bradley, I was very please to see your letter. The problem with living inside an old wooden trunk in an elderly woman's home is.. I don't have access to a telephone. In order to call upon me, you must come to this house on Camden Avenue. The number is eleven. 11 Camden Avenue. Just take a left from Eisenhower Street. Walk in the door and walk through the foyer to the back room on the right. The trunk is in the closet. We can leave, meet Daniel, and go to the boardwalk. With luck, we can find Jones. Good old Jones. We will find them dreams. I just know it. I know it deep down in the deepest recesses of my heart.
these letters are spiralling downward into oblivion. the drugs they ey ey have an holkd up on me. i cant see becausew there is too much smaopeke in my eyes. i cant see anything i can baerly see the keyboard. but throught the smoke what i could see what the words you wrote unto me now fuck my self. i dont hear you unless you knock this room is filled with fog or smoke what it is i cannot tell its like milk. the rooms are filled with milk fogsmoke
your words seared through my clothing and flesh into my heart and removed it from my ribcage i can see it hanging in fr ont ofe me.
i can also see my dead grandmother crawling up my leg with a knife in her mouth
I heard you were in bad shape. I have recently found the Lord, and if you are still stable enough to listen to his writings, I will witness to you. You are strong, brother. I'm praying for you.
I wish I could feel the wind from where I am. It's pretty much dark all the time unless the old woman opens the roof. Then its too bright. Occassionally I can hear the laughter and playful screams of children and it reminds me of our days on the boardwalk. We didn't have a care in the world, didn't we? I used to shout and bang at the walls and all it did was kick up dust. I would choke on the mothballs. But I gave up. Please leave the kaleidascope just for a bit and rescue me. I want our wonderful times on the boardwalk again.
Sincerely,
Eric
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I used to watch you and danny play on the boardwalk. I wished that i could come join you.. but i was afriad that you would reject my friendship. I hope that your days are going better than ive heard they had been. Summer is coming up on us pretty quick. When i come back to the states, I'm going to look you up and give you a call. We can do meth and heroin and stroll down East Burndan St. like i have always dreamed of. But those dreams are long gone. Can you help me to find them?
Missing you,
Brad
Reply
Bradley, I was very please to see your letter. The problem with living inside an old wooden trunk in an elderly woman's home is.. I don't have access to a telephone. In order to call upon me, you must come to this house on Camden Avenue. The number is eleven. 11 Camden Avenue. Just take a left from Eisenhower Street. Walk in the door and walk through the foyer to the back room on the right. The trunk is in the closet. We can leave, meet Daniel, and go to the boardwalk. With luck, we can find Jones. Good old Jones. We will find them dreams. I just know it. I know it deep down in the deepest recesses of my heart.
Love always,
Wise
P.S. I gladly accept your friendship.
P.P.S. Eatin' some pizza. Learnin' about Cuba.
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Danny,
these letters are spiralling downward into oblivion. the drugs they ey ey have an holkd up on me. i cant see becausew there is too much smaopeke in my eyes. i cant see anything i can baerly see the keyboard. but throught the smoke what i could see what the words you wrote unto me now fuck my self. i dont hear you unless you knock
this room is filled with fog or smoke what it is i cannot tell its like milk. the rooms are filled with milk fogsmoke
your words seared through my clothing and flesh into my heart and removed it from my ribcage i can see it hanging in fr ont ofe me.
i can also see my dead grandmother crawling up my leg with a knife in her mouth
im dying im dying
Reply
I heard you were in bad shape. I have recently found the Lord, and if you are still stable enough to listen to his writings, I will witness to you. You are strong, brother. I'm praying for you.
In Christ,
Bradley
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