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  • I wrote to a friend,
    a dear, dear friend.

    I told her I had been
    trying
    to
    stop
    dreaming about her...

    to give up the fantasy...

    to forget about finding my way to her Oz.

    I told her,
    I would
    respectfully repress
    my words
    and emotions.

    She wrote back.

    "sweet on many levels,
    no need to repress
    respectfully
    or
    otherwise, we
    get enough of that
    from the real world
    regularly.
    glad I live there, as well.
    enjoy."

    she signed it
    in cozy little
    lower case.

    Dear-oh-dear.

    I grew so
    warm and fuzzy
    and wet...

    A simple note.

    Oh, to be...THAT loved.

    I wish I could touch her.

    I would love to realllly show her
    just how sweet
    she
    makes my real world...
    just how fucking sweet.
    .
    .
    .
    .
    I can't wait for the floodgates
    to open and
    unlock and unleash
    these man-damned,
    god-forsaken
    repressions.

    Now help me find that oil-can, Tin-Man...
    Rust has this shit locked up tight.

    (no pictures, to protect the not-so-innocent muse...aside from the usual bullshit technical difficulties.)
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