If there is a heart, it is not subject to free will, but rather is a book that can’t be put down, a song running through your head, a train on a track to certain disaster and all you can do is stand back and wait and watch and steel yourself against the coming crash, the inevitable implosion, the waiting disaster…when you wake again, cold and alone you are somehow never worse for the wear…soft and sweet as a child, as tender as a woman and just as mercenary,plays you for the fool yet again, promises the moon and the stars when all you asked for was the night, gives you only the cold light of day and then swears no promises were ever made. When you never asked for anything at all how is it then that you can end up with less than you expected?