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Friends do not help friends when they are down. There are so many nights these days when friends can not be found and I have silent messages to leave on the beeping tapes of telephone machines. I wish I had not come along to upset you. I wish I had not come along to infect you with my heart of gold (it is cold and highly prized). You could pound it to nothing if you tried, and you could purify it with the heat of your body every night, but I will not let you get that close because life is just not right if you are not good and used to being alone.

I go to bed each night so confused. Everyone here wears the same strange perfume. It intoxicates my heart and it waters my eyes. It makes me weave all these stories into lies, and I am not a man to tell untruths. I am trying to be a man (on the deathbed of my youth), but I will be gone soon, and you will be fine. We will both be so much stronger in time.

I will be a corpse, young and dead in Georgia, sucking life through packs of filters and some sort of book I have read or only heard of. Jerome wrote out our lives and then he deserted us, but we are going to get rid of these memories and they will not hurt us anymore. They are a millstone around our necks, but they will not burden us because I am walking out the door. I am turning over engines until my taillights are so far away.

I think some reeds on my harp are frozen because, these are not the notes that I would have chosen. Frost on my windshield makes it look a little broken, but maybe this is all for the best. Let us hope that this is all for the best.