it is not as late as i would like and the night is jarred, filled and empty with the black soot of night. i am here, in this lit space, against the light of these white walls. something is amiss here, something won't sit quite right. i have made no new resolutions, i have no space to stack them, up on the shelves. i have made no inroads into solution, no marks on this white board, no passage into the open doorway. i don't know what i'm doing. soon, i will get up, and go out, walk through the silent shouting hearts of northbridge, the loud cry out noises of town. soon, i will get up and get moving. soon i will leave and it will not be soon enough for my legs, too late for my heart and just the right time for my little little head.