feels like trains whistles and that old stink of forgotten byways, sometimes it itches. sticks in your teeth and takes up residense, peculier needs, we laugh, though we know truth, how it irks and twindles. finds euphonisms and weepy sleeps, murky bound delusion, disillusioned quandary, early morning waifs, always abundantly clear.gotta get home., as the parlance goes';'to mine"