the sun will not prove itself evil. it is fire untamed. and fire was born only to burn. i want to wake up in the early hours and believe. i want beyond what it is to breathe. i want to see you walking quietly across the silent floor. tip toes arranged in small graceful patterns of adorable concern. i want tea. dried leaves from the humble dirt. made for two at least. break the shades and smolder. golden spears from the great sky. i want to sip it slowly. i want to behave like a rock and roll freak on the verge of madness. to throw each machine from the balcony and scream. i want to return in peace again. i want to tell you everything. which is nothing. i want to show you instead. there are no words for this. they are only sketches.