Legions of the lost and battalions of beggars that beggar belief, a twenty-first don't mention me century,
how to avoid the pitfalls when the walls are caving in when the night comes with disclaimers,
what if the day begins and you're not there?
When your speech comes out as frozen words, you know that it's cold, when you move at thirty-three and a third and you try to light a cigarette but can't get the match to stay still, slowly losing the will he or won't he slipping into and out of, but you can't figure out the planetary alignments because of the rows of tentpoles that drill holes through your brain and your mind's wandering again passing the time until the sun rises and wondering if you will.