Popa dam Alexia

 You idiot Popa, you gave me false hope with all those promising replies. I really thought you'd give it to me good. I thought we'd run away together over the free plains like classy gypsies. That was just a dream, and you were nothing but a little idiot. I told you I loved you, and you replied that it felt nice to be loved. I'll never understand why you betrayed me after I tried so hard to give you my all. I treated you like a little God. A little darling God. You were so cute, I could have spent countless hours with you. Now what are you but the paint flaking off my walls? I don't want you to be anything if you can't be that prize Alexia. That gorgeous naked teen Upon a throne. I want you to be everything to me. I want you to go everywhere with me. I want you to travel to the places that I can't fathom in my mind and on my beautiful yacht made for two. I want you, you little idiot, to fulfill my dreams and not some guy's sexual urges. I want you to eat whatever I give you and take it and live in it and fill it with your beautiful ways. I don't want your body, just the memory of that beautiful snowflake of a body that's steadily wasting away. Why couldn't you just be with me instead of an evasive twit. I want to dream about that place that we owned. Only you and I owned it. We were practically in a relationship I now realize. We were there, in the very place we dreamed of. Tomorrow I will try to find a new place in Krabi where I can fulfill every last wish of my imagination. I will build a sandcastle on a mountain. I will delve in a little stone cottage. I will not fullfil the lusts of the flesh but I will find a tree on which to climb into the ether and disappear with a more ethereal Popa Alexia. Why must everything consist of money when class will do? I have a pretty picture in my castle in the sky. And that picture is more charming and powerful than words. The castle is made of local stones that I've collected over the years. And will you stay with me? Will you elevate me to more than I appear? Will let me take you hand in hand to the place where I am a hero, and where we can be free together, forever? I want to go to that old salad bar again and not find a cockroach. Now if I were a Buddhist, I might even say that that cockroach was one of my enemies brought up from the dead. I don't need food when I've got you. I can eat the clouds and the light. I feel the passions of my heart tied to a tree. I want to live in that castle in the sky  and never have a hangover again. Heaven hang over. Heaven hang over. I don't know why I get this terrible feeling that nothing will work out sometimes. Let me write and write until I don't need to masturbate. This is a kind of textual masturbation. I am not masturbating my flesh, but masturbating my soul with the keyboard and there is nothing at all sinful about it. I want to know the answer to feeling free in creativity. I want to find that rocky shore and give it another go. I want to climb on that surfboard and go to that nirvana that many speak of. I want it to be real this time. Not some pipe dream you have to wake up from. Is it possible to achieve trance-like states by fasting? Is it possible to stop looking things up on the internet every time I don't feel like I have all the information. I mean for crying out loud. If I don't have it now, when will I have it? I surely have enough information to write a book. I want to know that free key to the cosmos, that feeling that I've opened the door, not just to manhood but to everything that means something. I don't care if it hurts. I just want it to mean something. Not this hysteria of never knowing and always chasing something like nirvana. Is it Jongjin Jamsri? Is she the answer? Do I need picnics by the lake with her to feel fulfilled? Why must I carry around this heavy body to get there? Why can't I just finish all my videos in time for tomorrow morning and then start with something new, like a day by the sea. I'm not paid per hour and I'll never go back to that man who paid me per word. Eat sand castles Taylor. I don't want your false hope. You sell hope to people for the price of a writer's soul. You expect us to write something special for virtually no money at all. A couple of cents and then you get angry when it's not the right thing. "We'll see" you said. "We'll see" if what? We'll see nothing. I don't want anything from you. You'll see that you gave up one of the greats. I'll write about you in my biography you turd. I don't want your company anywhere near my words. I'll take them to places you've never imagined. I need to get rid of this nervous energy. It eats me up sometimes, and I can feel it. And I know it because it doesn't always give me the chances I need. I have to go to a dark room somewhere and just masturbate and pretend I've found nirvana in dirt and disgrace. I don't want that kind of explosion. I want explosions that drive me somewhere. I want to harness the power of lightning. Once I tried to create a perpetual motion machine. Maybe I've found the reason for that urge. It was subconscious. Jungian. I don't understand the people who've let me down. Did they see the exit wounds from the lightning that struck me? Were they scared at how damaged I can be. Well I don't want to be broken or damaged. I want to be a poet and  a writer and that's all. Let the treasuries of God be opened to me. Let me be mystically and magically in tune with what I need to find. Let it grow closer to me, that kingdom of heaven. I will write long. As long as it takes for me to find that place in the heart of the Kingdom of God. I am so tired and frustrated with being let down. I just want to live in peace and infinite wealth of joy. I was there. And then I had to work. This is the gold of all creation, this ability to be ensconced in words. That beautiful moon face of yours is wider than any oceans I could contemplate. Would the world be saved if I were to kiss it? I felt so close to you when you visited me. Maybe you felt the same way? Before I am engaged to be married, there are a few things my heart wants to know. Is it you who I was meant to be with, and crashing oceans be my witness rather than rushing streams of people through unhallowed doors? Is this doer affair too silly for my life to be betrothed to. I must know the keen and honest answers to what drives you and if it drives me too. Are we the same passion separated from it's half-and-half source? I wonder what the answer will be if I write God a letter and ask him to send you the answer? Will it come back positive from your quarter? I want to spend the night in passion and revelation. Is enough for me to invite you back in time and ask you to attend my school dance with me? Would you be the one that I love through thick and through told? Give me this answer, please, I ask you. I go before the King and ask him to answer me before the sun has set. I need you to find me where my soul meets the earth. Come to me Yamsri. I want you to be mine for as long as it takes to know. I am not in love with this little girl who calls herself my wife. I don't want to be with her any longer if you give me the positive answer. I want to be with you and all the angels that light your face in heaven. I want to spend time together with you, not this broken brigade of old heat and dust. Everthing gets sordid and dirty as soon as it touches another person's imagination. I don't want it anymore, o' Lord. Give me Jongjin Jamsri if that's your answer. Giver her to me, that thai Princess.