No one. That’s who.

It doesn’t matter and it never has. It’s supposed to be something that comes from inside that makes this life worth living. Isn’t it? Some shred of honesty and self-realization that makes me a good man, that transforms me from the beast that I am to something worthy of desire and love?

While I may have lost these things, I believe I once held them as part of who I thought I was and yet it made no difference. I grew uglier.

It’s dusk and, yet, the city refuses to be silenced. The birds have returned to their nests and the white noise of tires clashing on asphalt is omnipresent.

I lay here, in darkness… listening to the jetliners pass overhead; full of people going somewhere to do something.

Me? I just lay here.

Listening.

To the droning of the city.