MyLittlePotheads

Do you feel the colors? You should. Are you numb to the sensations of the suns? Bound and in binds to the bends and boroughs, waves and wounds wound within the confines of your minds? Electric erected eclectic images: that's all we are. Photos of demented dimensions, dead by extension, flowing and glowing through vain veins and rolling rays, like a star slithering through sand, the seduction of reduction is cataclysmic and anti-climatic. Within and without you, all you found is the illusion of round sound.