funk on some esum

some days i wake up in a funk; today was one such day. do dreams mean anything? some people remote from but relevant to your life somehow find their way to live in dreams. you live in dreams. it's driving me crazy. there is such great gravity in you that my days have been clobbered by illicit desire, though absolutely rational in that i have no intention of ever brushing it off. sometimes i pretend to, and tell myself i have, but immediately seek to be filled up again. some days are so dire... it is terrible to miss, especially what you can't have, without a resolution; it is no different from wanting what does not exist. no action is warranted. there is nowhere to put these feelings in. how did this happen anyway. you were a tiny speck in the sky, a single pinprick of light in the night like any other, then my eyes chanced upon you one time and now you are overwhelming as a close encounter with the sun, you are burning me up.
i am in such a deep funk that my writing is so bad. it's been seventy-five days.