My Dearest.

To My Dearest Penna,

I love you, I certainly do. However, my mind has not been very kind to you. I have been busy drifting here, there and everywhere. I meant to see you while I was in New Orleans, but with all the hustle and bustle of symposiums and debates you completely slipped my mind. Now, last weekend I had to travel to Houston. You know that trip was to benefit not only me but you too. Imagine how much time you will get with me when I am in school. Oh the things we will do.

I can't wait to grip you and stroke your body and let you drench my sheets with the evidence of our calamity. You know that I am the only one that can handle you from top to tip and back again. Who else can grind you into the table non-stop, twirl you around, and majestically lay you with desire.

I saw how everyone looked at you the other day. I am not angered because they want your moist sap resting on their outlines over and over again. Nor do I cringe at the mental catastrophes they concoct. Copulatory madness they imagine and pray to live by fondling you with clammy, tireless palms. Know this, I will not share you-as much as they feel they need you-that is not an option. You belong to me!

We are one, you have given birth to the essence of my core. We have sealed our union with the imprint of my soul upon your body time and time again. We have tarried for too long; late nights, early mornings; excessively with brutal intensity. I know you remember the library, or how about in the car, oh and never forget on the plane with the light on.

Looking at all we have had, do not fall into unmerited disenchantment. When we are not in fellowship, I am in poverty, and you--deprived of your value. Together we render the mind an overwhelming epistemological plane of concept and ideation. Let's harbor our yearnings deep inside, so when we meet again, we will erupt with magnificently, intimate fervor. So, please don't be upset with me, I will write with you soon.