Midnight cough

Its midnight. 12:28. I'm sleepless. Coughing. nursing a flu. And a happy collection of aches in my joints. A head full of gloomy thoughts. A reminder of more fun days to come. And a whole library of bad literature. Crickets outside. I can hear only one or two rather than the whole goddamn chorus today. Almost muted. Clicking of the goddamn keyboard sounds depressing. Not in the mood to play the usual game. Eyes burning. Melodramatic ranting ensues.
 
Well. I'm bored. Let me write a story. I'll see how its greeted by anyone seeing it. If they think its weak and bad I'll do something else.
 
The rain pelted down on him. The rich invading smell of refuse and rain filling his senses. He shifts uneasily against the brick wall nuzzling his butt against the garbage getting himself comfortable. His eyes blink. Watering. He rubs at it. Legs splayed out in front of him. A smile at the passing people. He inches against the wall and the garbage. He smiles up at the rain. The stinging slap of rain drops on his weathered face. He wipes at his face thought it still remains wet. He makes himself comfortable. He knows at least its raining on him.
 
didnt come out as intended. I think its going nowhere and vague. Any suggestions how to continue this? Or is it that bad?