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.