Gone are grey days, numb days
Forgotten words on the tip of your tongue days: love, joy, passion
Say goodbye to those white sterile walls and weighted chair days
You are nothing but a few small pills in a cup days, DSM your only friend. Because today I lay in the sun and soak up every last ray with gratitude, singing to the birds and earthworms alike, marvel at daffodils and garden weeds. I voraciously pick every last fig from the tree in all varying shades of ripeness letting the bittersweet range of flavors burst in my mouth.