Analysis of NIGHTS PREGNANT

Dear My love! I had another horrible-horrible hyena-throat night last night. At three o'clock in the morning a violent arrhythmic palpitation of the heart signalled that my cells and molecules were no longer the same and that something inside me was consciously decaying, rotting. The shadows of the night had suddenly grown, and nightmares greeted me; I fell into a molasses pit of threatening darkness, unable to pull myself out, for fangs were gnawing at my plump, fat flesh. Such beastly-brutal nights I have seldom had in thirty-one years!

I was suddenly startled, as I usually was. My cushion, like a lost soft object, lay at rest beside my bunk-bed, while I thought of you, shivering under the warm blanket! I was thinking about your last photo, when you wore a flower-patterned home, because you wanted to look responsible and serious, but were you really happy and content and not just pretending to manipulate me consciously! Your superstitious saintly look must have been sad even then, but your feminine instincts were good at concealing it so as not to hurt others!

Your three little children are still naive-overjoyed at Life thought playful, and how soon they grow up; soon your flaxen-haired little Angel will have a suitor, and we can only hope that her golden heart will choose rightly! I feel that nothing is right! The past is but a fragment, while the million dangers of the uncertain, unimportant present lie day by day in wait for me, and you can never come to Pest to lay your honestly ashen hand in my hand and comfort me like a mother comforts her child!

You haven't sent me a photo of your evening gown before the Comedy Theatre! I'm still curious. If you promised me that we would always be close beyond molecules, now tell me frankly: What has gone wrong that you have torn away the secret bond that still bound me to you?! Thou canst know, my sweet: thou canst seldom deceive me, for I have known well thy every misguided, self-revealing mickey-move! Your absence creates a lasting void in my wounded soul, and every now and then it would be so nice to hear your lark-like voice on the phone!