Music is shaping the shapes in my brain. First it was Streetlight creating skank-pits out of midnight. Now it's Death From Above pulling a synth on a red Flyer wagon. But ultimately, when the sound stops, and the noise evaporates, I'll find myself in the same shape I started as. A cube of organs and fluids sitting at an uncomfortable desk in a room that smells like unemployment and depression. Desperate. Alive. Intelligent. Unsure of where to go, what to do, how to get there. All-time low. I am gone.