only about 35 minutes.

tonight and today were spent working on things. the memory nearest to the front of my mind would be the playing of the music. that time when 'point in time' goes out the window and we all just synchronize and flow. sharing loves and sipping on berry juice - i just can't tell what type this is. I think it might be cabernet sauvignon, \but could just as well be some kind of merlot or syrah. montopulciano? possibly. probably not thought.

six thousand one hundred and twenty. I'm not sure sucks that we have to do that though. ?Nothing prevails and takes ther situation. words words words wrods wqrodso wrowe sd. hre's a poem-


awake with the sunshine asleep in the night time,
moping in daylight, lounging in the evening.
tucked into inside while scathing the outside.
courteous and the friendly, the day trail never ending.

restless ideas buzz in your control tower - just what you want.
of dreams that will satisfy that which you fought for.
risk a lame old leg, an arm, or three wrists,
barge through the long lines, fumes always with.

no winning circle to keep the sad ones out of,
no circles at all for the ones out of love!
mind set in hindsight to struggle through mazes,
blind on the left right and blind to all crazies.

but worry not, for the fear of long days' travels,
and think more of thwarting the fakes as unravels.
sitting alone, letting out moan, wishing for a roam.
this mundane routine begging new beginnings.