[Oh yeah, the wild life, hitting the clubs and pubs. Raving, baby. Floating scene after scene. Check out my leather jacket, I'm like so hardcore. Bad ass, I'll grab your sack through your tight pants. Take that comment back and stop starring at my overly exposed boob crack!] I've switch over to a nocturnal life, and I'm a fucking riot! Bullshit. light. inhale. inhale. flick. inhale. ash. on and off the commuter train. meet him here. grab a cup, take a seat. nod. yes, yes. agreed. turn down invitations. and back again. I am just going through the motions. That's what my evenings consist of. Wolf down greek pastries and vegetarian pizza. Help it travel down the esophagus by chugging a liter of whatever. Nighttime arrives and I feel alive. I can lie, protect my fragile ego, and say that the parties never interested me, anyway. But I don't anymore. A pill to swallow, morning soon will follow. I think more than ever. About the train tracks I'll never cross. Of what I'm doing and what it'll cost.