Axe by the keyboard

He was trying hard not to think about it. A visit to the galla couldnt help it. A string of the so-called laugh-along jokes with others did not help. A long dose of pornography didnt. Each part of the body seemed to tell him that it was the time to take the chance. A small star shone right near the dim tower on a moonless,dark night.
The star was bright, very birght. Hazy at first, but when he kept staring at the star, it kept geting clearer and clearer. His clothes looked like they were worn for ages. A dusty mat lay unfolded beside him and a radio kept yelling old music. He was biting at his last pencil, thinking of a life, which could have been. Should he have tried? Was he the blueprint of a failure? the map to a suicide history.

He strained his eyes to look back into his screen. Though full of symbols, it appeared all blank. Not easy, Not easy, ......

Loads of books were kept on the table.Biographies were neatly stashed in a separate column. The ones that should how each next door guy turned to become the big guy.

Water flowed without a sound into the empty glass. A soft squish was heard as the lemon was crushed into the glass. The dark bottle then was served into the glass.
The screen started stirring. Work was to be done...This should not be the end. The contents of the glass threaded through the dry throat, throwing out heat everywhere. The warmth erased the cold for a moment. but the icy touch of failure could still be sensed.
The night flowed away.