it's cold out. you bundle up. put the mismatched gloves on because you're tired of buying cheap pairs. you're on a mission. you're heading for the train. on the platform you watch the world going. moving on. towards the ever coming night. you've always loved that brilliant blue. hear come headlights and the glowing green...

skim through a book. daydream. watch the nervous couple obviously falling apart...apart at the seams. people get off, and get on. buzz through scenes in your life, then look for other flowers to sap dry. go back to daydream...

you want a cigarette...and a beer. you want anything that'll level you down, like a weight at the end of fishing line. something that'll hold your head under 'til you forget about wanting more, wanting higher and deeper, and wider...anything that'll erase the sound of his voice telling you you'll fly...