2:13 on a Saturday night. Dark winds howl dust and debris outside my window. I sit in my favorite chair - overstuffed espresso colored lounger - in the darkness of my apartment lit only by the crimson of my cigarette tip - watching the green velvet curtains breathe. A long streak of white crosses the dusty mosaic tiled floor from a baneful moon shut on and off by the undulating curtain.
I sit and I smoke and I think. I feel so empty. So emotionless. So lost.
I seriously need a change in lifestyle.