Here, At Sleepy Hollow
Waking, unto another day; trying to think of anything to say
Going through the motions as a beta amid their little fish bowl
Swimming in tiny circles empty walls past blurred glass; warped images
Distorted reality hoping that whomever will pour a vile of white wine into my mind
A cube of ice to chill it's pen alleviate the burn while waiting for some imitation frosted
Flakes belly up lying atop their blue as red deep sea pebbles; gazing beyound his daydreams
Bubbles bemused muddled voices charmed her mosquito, sipping my intoxication ? H2o, doing time.
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