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[attackbrows]

	You've reached Dr. Funkenstein. Expert on all things funkadelic. Please, by all means, save us both the hassle and don't leave a message.
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christmas delivery;

[kovach]

[ a few days after christmas, the doctor will find a small rolled up piece of paper, tied by simple string. it isn't signed with a name, but there's the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, along with the careful scribble of a poem: ]

Jagged lines like
cracks in stone
the man wields his age
like a war torn Mirror
But he beams
with new teeth
and strings of a Song
giving water to desolate dirt
and seeing the flowers stem up
in a dance
named Hope