Concluding Testimony

In this letter I invest my hopes to perpetuate any acknowledgement of the love and passion I've been so fortuitous to experience blossoming within the bowels of my soul within the past six months. These words, soon to be carried over the waves under the watch of sun, moon and stars, will most likely be the last evidence left to my kind; mankind, that will slip unnoticed by the prohibitions enforced by agents of governing men of ancient, secret societies. Encapsulated in a glass jar and fixed with a cork will be contained perhaps my last expression of that which I felt the most purely and sincerely for, more than any other singular or collective thing in the entirety of my life. Though I have escaped the grasp of the hunting men which seek me for the knowledge of things I should not know, but have now known and loved, I know that my time away from their clutches is brief.
First know that despite what one could safely presume the general perspective that sane members of society would hold on this situation, I feel deep in the inner most of my being that my love is as true and natural as any other could ever be. The collective opinion of typical society might feel otherwise, but I would lay this inability to understand to the consequence of the underhanded schemes and devious plots concieved throughout the intelligable history of our species by the governors of secrets. They control the corporation of strings that pull our eyes to attention on that which is beneficial to them, and away from that which is not. These men are the bandits of truth, and horde the reality of the Earth, the reality of that which I love, and soon, no doubt, the reality of my love, itself.
Though I know they exist, I know not why or how, and it is not simply this particular knowledge in itself for which they hunt me and my awareness of the situation, for the situation extenuates the mere knowledge of their pressence in this world. The truth, which I so dearly entrust upon this feeble scrap of paper I deem fated to drift asea, is that I encountered, connected with, and conjoined my very soul to a creature from the deepest depths of the ocean. The existence of she which I love most and her kind is knowledge banished from the eyes of men, by men whose intentions and methods I am oblivious to. If I so chose to, I could occupy and rack my mind immeasurably with assumptions and guesses lacking any sense of education or evidence as to why they uphold and maintain this veil that masks the actuality of these highly sentient and wonderous creatures of the blue. However, I feel this would be a folly use of the limited time I have left to spend with my correct mind. For of all the things I do not know; I do know that is what they hunt, and that is what they shall eventually seize. My memories will soon be brushed away by forlorn chemicals that will release me of all that I ever knew; a swift injection of mystery that will swipe clean the slate of my mind.
All that I am and ever was, all that I ever felt will evaporate from the surface of my psyche, and that which I now cherish the most shall never be missed for I shall never know of it. The shore on which I had met the queen of my heart will have never existed to me, and the congregation of our thoughts and emotions exchanging in super-sonic telepathy is a phenomonon no longer accountable in the near future perception reserved for me by the hands of bandits of the past of my reality.
I can even see now, if I close my eyes, her deep blue skin glistening and shimmering with purity and wetness from the ocean. Her eyes were massive orbs that would stare heavily into my own with massive black pupils that mystified my soul and seized my mind, sending an overwelming shock to my heart that stole the breathe from my lungs and caused the easiness of my feet to flutter away. All that we were was shared, yet never did we share a word. Every reservation was dismissed, and all boundary lines were crossed, yet never did I, nor could, nor would I ever need to, lay with her. The love of man and seabeast is mentally hyper-sensual, and enlightened my soul to the pettiness of general mankind's emotional extremes.
Even now as my throat clamps onto tears of rapture, the flower of love and greatness that passionately and ecstaticly blossomed from the roots of my being to the tattered ends of my soul is slowly withering at the gripping acknowledgement that knaws and tears away at the joy in me which is that I shall soon no longer know any of this.
And that is why this weak, thin material of paper is so dear to me; it offers a last opportunity of acknowledgement that I once loved, and was loved, beyond the typical capabilities of a normal human mind. The truth is now as solid as this paper, and as clear as the writing I have laid upon it with this pen. As long as the cork holds tight to this glass bottle that remains true, my love will be everlasting and never forgotten by the waves of the sea.
The wicked theives will capture me soon, I know it, but I will run and fight for every second I have to maintain the memories of my beloved woman from the sea. Had I the chance to gaze into her inhuman eyes once more, to steal merely a few moments of ecstasy enclosed in her grand psyche, and her in my own, I would seize it. Yet she has been cast off into the oblivion of an unknown place by the agents of Earthly secrecy. Within this hour or the next, I have no doubt that I will be taken, and my body fettered to a bed which will be my greeting place to the forlorn chemical, sentencing me to a shattered life of witlessness in a cold, angry, and confused building of cement walls kept warm and comfortable with thick padding.
This is my concluding testimony.
September, 24th 1922