Letter Never Meant

Mark Heustice

     I'll make everything up.  You do not exist, but I, unfortunately, do.  
This is a real letter made up for you, my non-existent confidant.  What 
shall your name be?  Something original.  How about Isabella?  No.  I Knew 
an Isabella once.  She stank.  I shall call you,  I shall name you, address 
you....er.....Brickwall.  You are tall! elegant! human!! Oh Brickwall, how 
I miss your see-through smile, your air-like breath, your nimbus hair.  How 
I yearn for your touch.
     I need to tell you warn you ask you about so many things.  Of my encasement,
my life, my basement.  About this town of stone I am trapped under.  I mould, 
wither, turn white.  I need sunlight.  Brickwall, you are my sun, my planet, my 
supernova.  My cover.  My dover of peace.  I make it all up for you.  All lovingly 
carved, moulded, drawn.  All written in gold.  I grow old and weary.  My self is 
dreary.  I fell grey and clammy.  Like a dream I had, Brickwall. Oh, the dreams I 
have!  In Dreamland I am so criminal!  All the impossible tasks I perform.  All 
the crimes committed, people wasted, tasted.
     I sweat.  The night ignores me.  The wind taunts me.  I need te see you, 
Brickwall.  I needs things I cannot have.  Like joy, love, wealth, all the 
impossible things, the top shelf things. Why should I be like everyone else, 
Brickwall?  Huh?  Answer me Brickwall!  My temper is lost. As is my happiness.  
People see me feel me ignore me.  Just another head to be counted.  In the
Great number I am an odd unit.  Make a zero.
     All those dead people, Brick.  May I call you Brick? No? No.
     A dog spoke to me today.  It said something, but I missed it.  I was 
feeling sorry for myself at the time.  Animals: they come and they go, breed 
and grow.  But they do not survive, do they, Brick?  Must I punctuate
     I think I think of her.  The one that no-one should approach.  The one 
who can break a heart at a hundred paces.  She does not think of me.  How 
     What did I do today?  What shall I do tomorrow?  Must we have a tomorrow,
Brickwall?  Is it up to us?  I we all, all, thought at the same time, the very 
same moment, "No! No tomorrow!" would it arrive?  Well?  Answer!
				I lift my foot!
     Now I am naked.  That is better.  I feel clever, now.  This is me.  This 
is how I appear.  Light bounces off of me, into the eye, to the brain.  I am 
perceived.  How can I fit iin a world filled with people all wanting the same 
thing?  Brickwall.
				I lift my head.
     I yearn for darkness.  I close my eyes.  I imagine that a long time has 
passed.  The sun shines.  I close my eyes again., and again.  I close them 
again.  Dissapointed.  Sucess escapes me.  Pain rapes me.
 				I life my soul.
     Goodbye, Brickwall.  I no longer need you.  You may go do be whoever you choose.

>E-mail Mark

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