It's something like soft jazz, and it sings to me. It lulls me to sleep. I gave up on Melatonin, because it never really worked anyway. Nothing like that could make me feel brand new. Nothing like that could make me feel less blue. I walked a couple of blocks yesterday in the cold. Shivering, I reached fumbling for my Chap Stick, it fell to the concrete. Fuck it, it wasn't really mine anyway. I can't remember whose it was in the first place anymore. Some mornings I take to the notion that I'll be a good guy, you know? I'll do the right thing, make everyone smile. But once the sun burns out, and the blanket of the cold, cold night is draped over the Earth, I take to my old ways. They please me ceaselessly. Why must my emotions negate each other? Damnit, I can't grow up to be my brother. Every day ends with an ellipsis, and I wonder if anything will ever pick up where I left it off.
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