Leaves me drifting deeper into sleep beyond the waking sleep of hearing rain pattering on the fallen leaf’s outside my window.  It’s Holloween and I am 27 years old but I don’t know that anymore for I am sleeping.  Nothing is better than not knowing who you are on Holloween.  You can’t be held accountable if you don’t know who you are.  That’s a nice way to be, but only here in sleep do enjoy it.  Waking today the pain will rise again, and the sun will shine hard, and I’ll reminisce of oceans of orgasmic nothingness.  Rent is due tomorrow.