It's an irony, to wake in the morning. To wake to hellish noise, a hellish noise of shear silence. To wake knowing you're the last man on earth. Many say oh that would be such a luxury so cool. But to walk endlessly down the roads of Manhattan with the smell of death a simple repetitive circle in life. You start to look forward to things, like the next time it rains, or the next time the sun will ever crescent the earth's atmosphere. Ask yourself is it a luxury to look forward to death? The healthy human mind doesn't wake up every morning thinking it's the last day on earth. But I think it’s a luxury, a certain freedom to know you're close to the end. You can either set priorities, or just watch the world burn right in front of you. Every season leaves fall from a tree, onto the ground. Everyday I close my eyes begging for a flashback of what a flower or a rose looked like. Being the last man on earth flushes the color out of you, flushes every damned memory in your mind.