He is made of neon lights and sleepless nights. Lipstick sticks to his collar, her scent lingers on his skin. He can’t remember all the details but he knows how it always begins. When the sun goes down, he chases the loneliness with music and wine at clubs stocked with women all too fine. They can never cure him, although they try. The loneliness comes back strong enough to make him cry. But he pushes it down with a night on the town. He is made of neon lights and sleepless nights, girls with pretty faces and all the reasons he’s lonely in the first place.