oh kyley i saw you wrote something, and it made me so happy!
(it's ironic your words)
i looked at my watchbox, there! words! from bubbles, and lightness!
(it's not your tongue - you are free, always been)
it is the duty of the word to balloon. you are light, always been.
(so fly, kyley-ann. wings are yours)
just write, and you will soar
(just smile, and smiles are yours)
in you is worlds
(and citizens, and trees. air, cycles, nourish, excre.
eco)
free them all!

i am totally sorry if this made no sense. at all. 100% pure confusing. but then, that's expected. it's night, late, and i'm at lab - my housemate zak is gone for three weeks, gone, and home is lonely. sometimes, often i suppose, i envy (in more a blue way) you and rachel. not because it's pookie, but simply because of the love there. i long for one so close here, a friend like i have not cultured into myself. so berkeley has fogs in the summer. i don't have a kyley to my rachel, so i write. you have friendship, so you stay up late and talk. you stay up late, and out pours the soul into the bright air, the heavy boston night, the heat to cradle you like holding the hand of a pen. and holding the hand of a pen, or the stroking my fingers over the waist of my keyboard - yes, this is the soul pouring out, in all the varied pixels of the mural of the self - yes, this is living, through the word recorded, or vanished into space, absorbed for a moment in an absorbed mind. but the mural is continuity, so far as that is possible, quantumly.

i miss your writing, but i love your friendship. thank you, for taking care of rachel when she needed it. keep a hand on the hand of lo.

the sun is blooming over you too soon, so set soon you moon, i'm moving to you soon, shooting home to the moon.

it is late, i am going home, but i sincerely hope you are well. you are deeply entrenched. be well, be well.

~chris

--
'if you want to see the future
go stare into a cloud'