Stolen goods working for an imagination, stick stuck on hyperdrive. Pop lock – hot stop, burn through fabric, no justice for maverick. A cold air, strokes cold hairs, no feedback my friend, its a cold stare. Stroking the line(s), graphite gone, rubbing the pink tip, warmth from friction no matter the photoshot. It is a cold road, a cold hole, can you remember the times your mom stared at your empty soul? A glass full, no matter what matter, upside down, fallen soldier(s) bleeding bugs from out to in. A cold world my lonely friends, seperated by distance, trapped by binary code. Wildflowers, flourescent rainbow kaleidoscope colors escape from black holes, thoughts crashing to never give up.