Listen to the rain of the urban sprawl. Here in Chicago, mighty folks fall. It's a ring in the air -- that echoes far. God knows that you outta crawl. The city night was never silent, and so my mind resigned to speaking. And it spoke for hours, keeping me awake past the hours -- waiting for something, not sure what but something big. I bit my finger tips, and I took another stab: Damn thou winter blast. You speak so harsh, But not doth thy pen... What am I doing? I thought. I yawned, but it was a vain yawn -- the type you do when your girlfriend looks at you. It's that type of nervousness that gets me late at night when I'm alone. I listened to the dull haze of night. Uuuuuuuoooo. I twas a drawn out upsilon -- as if bended by time and speed, to be elongated and in waves. I wrote something again, but it was nothing but a mindless tirade.