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I woke up at a quarter-after nine on a hard-wood floor on the lower-west-side of Brooklyn. The cloud cover outside matched the off-white of my eyes and the vessels looked like train lines--the ones you drew to take me home and away from you."It's time to go", I announce to absolutely no one. I pack my bags and recite an epitaph calledIt's Raining in Plattsburgh Again.I took the subway back to Union St. and I hopped a train back to Ossining. I held on to the rail so tight that my fingers and my knuckles turned white. I knew if I fell right then, there would be no getting back up again.And she said "It's raining in Plattsburgh again."It's raining in Plattsburgh again. From Letras Mania