I'm always down, the gutter's my home
and the streets are strewn with plastic
and old cigarettes and syringes as always
but today I felt that friendly old surge
of an abnormal normalcy, as though
my ragged surroundings had elevated
to the level of the common folk.
I live for my manic high points.
This isn't really a poem, just a thought/state that I wanted to remember, and potentially call upon when I have more time to put effort into writing.