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What's up A? In your absence I am forced into finding other forms of amusement while thinking about you. You are dressed with filaments and people take pains to make you fully incandescent this evening. Cities crumble, skies ignite spontaneously in your presence. All my thoughts are lost to your graceful gaze? I desire to see life through your hallucinations so that they massage my viscera into an eternal state of turgid flux. I relentlessly desire cotton candy lollipops. Your layers of absinthe and torsion form concretions of hyper-alimentation. Your eyes are like spheres of crystal water filled with shimmering dreams. How it passes there and back again like a tear drop glistening in moonlight. A starfish's lifelong hallucinations of gelatin pools and of actuaries floating upon the foam and reciprocal ohm. So charmingly silky, your skin is like a teardrop on a popsickle. If I could have just one wish, it would be to wake up to your songs in the morning. The elves that play in the toasters wash their drum sticks in honey and sing strikingly colored anthems in perfect harmonious pleasure.