I have become a man of habits.
Alarms wake me, coffee and toast.
Gym, morning texts,
messages to my monkey.

The crow knows no habits
Hunts and gathers, watches for prey
Does habit call for the roost of murders?
I know less than little.

I have become my habits.
Birds, birds, birds.
I'd do anything for her smile.
Whiskey breath and soft kisses are my
prayers offered to the night,
or day.
Feast solely on the moon and
you will not receive sustenance.  

The past is certain, and so it becomes my future.
So too, is it certain, that I will relive my past mistakes?

Questions without answers.
My habit.
The lord gave me the intellect to question,
but saw fit to withhold the courage needed to answer.
Providence only moves when you do.