To whom it may concern

If I had a bottle
I’d drop this poem, inside its neck
and cast it from a coastal range,
for I know not, to whom to send it.
I would like it to be read as a letter of complaint.
I would like some understanding
that I may get carried away by my emotions and become non coherent
Please be patient.
why do I feel that I am about to lose a relationship.
that I am not going to get to live with her for as long as I want.

too long, I have wandered in your garden
dreaming of a midnight sun
Your path’s are worn, all dried up!
I see no positive outcome for us now
this is why I’m writing to you,
in full sorrowful rage.

Years ago when I was in, still infancy
Dreams came true on mountainsides
Tranquil balance, soft, bop air
I was the Kublai Khan
There was magic in the 7even
and the 4teen frog and Key stone
and down, down, deep
the opiate of the world

Brothers would cast dispersions
but I was lost to her
Out in the forest was where I made my home
How it was, to lay my face upon your skin in summer
and climb up, inside, to escape the needles that plague the dead

I don’t like to visit much now,
Crack whore gums, yours?
She seems like she has been pimped badly,
Atom bomb, core drilling,
Where’s the deep sea bottom trawler,
and the shelf that’s slipping?
I hope the Mayan’s were wrong
I hope the environmentalists are wrong
I hope that I am wrong
I hope that I am paranoid
I hope that I see trees
I hope that I am living in a game show,
and this is all for your entertainment.