twofifteen graveyard

the sun sets on a valley of steel cranes. they loomed over the freeway, ready to topple down and cause chaos among the daily commuters. everyday we pass these cranes, yet they sit rusted and unused, lining the sides of the roads.

honestly,

get the fuck out of san bernardino.

in a desert

the chances of cold weather are minimal. sweatin' bullets of guilt in late november.