These colored lights blink through the frosted glass and I tilt it back looking for oblivion. I imagine a tree in the corner with nothing underneath it except dust. This life a bust, this soul about to rust as another year drops with the last gulp. The snow falls and children scream outside and I remember when I had dreams that I know now will never come true. This blackness turns to blue and the white night is counted hour by hour, can by empty can. It is the eve of something…