Pleafe akcepte thisse lyttel note, for my hearte doth beate for thee with greate hafte. It has been suche a longe many monthes sinfe I hafe seen thy countenance that I am sorely smitten by thyne abfenthe.

Even myne servante ife of a heavy hearte owingge to thine abfence so I haften to my pryntynge preffe to write to thee.

My darlinge betrothedde, I muft admit I am ille withoute thee and mufte taken to my bedde to recover.

I trufte thine eyef seeth thefe wrytynge and that ye miff me.

I actually was looking for the font... That gangsta font. Reminding me of white T's and dance crews. School fights and war wounds.

Letters ironed onto the back of our shirts or tattooed nicknames displays.... I actually was looking for that forty.... That Old E in a brown paper bag....sip sip pass, drunk on my ass.....

Briefly taking me back to the past.

That hefty hark my soul hath made only left embers ablaze.

A thick sheet of black smoky fog covers my soul like a hollow log. It creeps and sleeps in me until the creak of a snore and once inside more it will bore.

Only to find that in due time naught a smaller particle of facts matter. And, that love doth had once upon a time simply has shattered.

The rubber coal burnt soul ate way at my core, which left me throbbing for life forevermore.

In the incandescent reality of night, nothing is ever lustrous and right.

My soul shakes and trembles with violence that sizzles, sizzles and leave gashes upon the pestilence which roams sullenly in silence.

Sullenly and vague was she, terrible thing to be, a stupid 'oman who was a Oman and cursed was thee.

My soul creaks, my bones are longing, harkening, and slicing. In this dry and rusty home forever I am alone with nothing enticing.

A man, I am, a shift ablaze in the burden of my heart so shall embers light way to hate. Hate for this nuisance of a home.

That speck of rotten widow I once left has naught seen anything but death. Finally, her evil has gone.