The Things You Think Are Precious... I Can't Understand...

Free Philharmonic on the Great Lawn, a soft Neurontin and Risperidone stroll by the Hudson to watch the setting sun upon the skyline of capitalism... I get these echoes of seasons past... Rake the leaves but the wind keeps blowing your neat little pile... painfully reeling in the years... I want a name when I lose... Sleep eludes me... as does the concept of what entails a day in the life... Claustrophobic acute anxiety in my mind and cns as I write this... Trapped in Alpha Waves... clammy palms... screaming aloud to an empty room... Sleep, sweet prince... sleep...