The dusk has always wished to meet the dawn and poets like myself have always talked about this. This world isn't about surreal beauties in occurrence however. This world is about getting by and making beauty be seen. There are scenes from my life stuck in my head like a bad pop song. Scenes of an angel in high heels. Of prevented death. of merriment. Of how I have lost so much I only have the world to gain these days. I remember this angel stepping in her oversized shoes in a very calculated way in the city of lights, eventually borrowing a lost friends high heels to make the journey. Up until a week ago I had no recollection whatsoever of the attempted suicide but now its as clear as the lonesome dusk. Countless memories of inebriated good times litter my mind like the snow fills the streets. All these things are past now and i'm left in a cold barren land wanting my angel back. The future is uncertain. The past haunts us. But that's what New Years is for.