.....slipping in and out of a red goblet and the plague. Himalayan lanterns are swaying their slender hips ever so gently in the bastardized damp and cold sleet splattering against my tattered windows. What was that formula you ever so desperately needed? My feet are throbbing. You’re talking too much. Everyone is talking too much. I can feel the molecules. I can smell freedom. I can hear ink. I can eat your quality and i can leave you as far as i can hold you...







