sunshine and glory days

writing accross the walls of his mind, the soggy cheerios taste the same as the salsberry steak durring his depression. his hair is the jungle of rat nests held together with circus grease and old skin. the butterflys are dead in the emporium. empty cocoons and dead plants are all thats left. beats echo in his head, usually a waltz comes to him in his dreams with lovers, but only when he doesnt perscribe himself with the fixers.
his mind produces a nice trail to walk along, otherwise known as a pain dampener. the leaves blow acrossed it in hues of orange and sad brown. the trees wind the path, branchs looming so low as to say hello, but not close enough shake hands. the door into the cave is open, a place to hide from the nightsnakes and guilting mothers. a place where morals, ethics and selfishness are lost for the sake of the teenager wanting a sip from the cup of sane.
to drunk to sleep, but to tired to think. he lays his head on the table and waits for the axe to come down, the day is such a dream.
his feet are cold and he wants to shower, but he doesn't feel like being clean. the water is stale with plastic and it burns his chapped lips when he tries to refresh. he needs sunshine and the wistle of wind against the car window. the glare on the dashboard and the feel of sun warmth on bare skin.
firelight on smiling dirty drunken faces mixed with the smell of pine needles and cheap tobbaco smoke. wool shirt wearing boys with brown sandaled feet warming next to the fire talk of god and the girls that they haven't met, farther away than the stars above. the bruised ribs from sleeping on the ground and a cold nose from the crisp chill of a beautiful night half slept, half lived.
he takes his head of the table and greets spring with a smile.