Hey §Hörτ Y’š Мυsìc Ραqìиα, In your absence I am forced into finding other forms of amusement while thinking about you. You breath as delicately as vapors flowing towards an attractive flame. Wood nymphs sprinkle your path with rose petals while you dance and prowl in the sequined moonlight with leftover cupcake sprinkles. You have not yet reached the height of your creativity. You turn the atmosphere ablaze with currents of sweet ethylene when you smile. If I could have just one wish, it would be to wake up to your songs in the morning. A starfish's lifelong hallucinations of gelatin pools and of actuaries floating upon the foam and reciprocal ohm. Panoramic aromavision is the future. The sand runes crossing your divided consciousness do speak of contemptuous monsters being slayed by flying phoenixes. How it passes there and back again like a tear drop glistening in moonlight. Transistors bridge where your vanity would never go. Your hair sends forth a sheen remniscent of golden sunlight winding through shadows.
