through forks, winding bends, under bridges pass. a murmuring. equidistant to the long fingered clouds, pushing deep into the crowded belly of the thick salty ocean. stars will yield. bending firey nape onto heavenly lunimous chest. tucked. cradled. foiled and burning some soft reflection in the madness of a vacuum. still, the ivory ruins steep in cold ink, running black veins through the page. twisting towards the forgotten disposable fountain pen.
sup dude remember when we worked at peet's.. man i hated my life then! anyways, glad to see your doing well, hopefully i can make it to one of your shows. one love.
![The Post Mortems [TONIGHT/@TheRecordingStudio]](http://c2.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/62/s_913c53f96ccb41bcbed36ac7dd5a3c91.jpg)
