Tekmix1

When I were a boy, sunsets were riddled with gargoyles, fettering their fetlocks with wanton beligerence. Bereft & bespeckled, they lay unchecked for a myriad moons, unspoken words of ambience, like big trucks of air, trundling through sound, like Meatloaf in a blender, under the moon of bomp-a-bomp-bomp.