Three sheets to the wind and pickled to boot

Lying listlessly on the cold linoleum floor
dreaming about the adventure that just ended and hoping for another to begin

A cool breeze wafts through the obsidian sky and flutters down past the curtains onto my rosy red face

It feels nice upon my tender skin

Slowly I slink off to sleep to rest up for another excursion that will be upon me soon

Lonely faces look out the rail cars windows longing for the city sky

The eyes wander around the Slums and Shanties, praising the heavens above that they're not getting off there

A mist starts to well up in those undulating optical's as the thoughts of honesty and faith leave them

A Calm.

A Blink.

A sigh of relief as we pull away towards a better civilization.

I sit here like I do every morning,
gazing out the window at the drivers and flyers passing by.

I wonder where they're going, where they've gone, and who they've met.

Did they meet a Queen or a King?
Was a famous actor in their mitts or just a good friend named Herbert?

Who can tell....

I hope that wherever they were that they enjoyed it and enveloped themselves in the sanctity of good times.

But most of all I hope that they are off to such a place a second or third or fifth time....

To live again.

I've been thinking of developing a pretty heavy ******* habit, but I feel like I'm a little late because it's no longer all the rage.

Today's youth are all about the fancy designer drugs,
It's a shame Ecstasy and Heroine aren't my thing.

If only this were 1985 and I had a guitar and a headband,
Then I'd know the time was right.

Oh well, I guess I'll just have to stick with the old Hashish,
As that never loses its style.

A man in the corner whistles a melody long forgotten, except by him

People walk by and continue their day without paying him any mind

Yet still he whistles

He whistles a tune that sounds so familiar that if I told you the name you would sigh relief

Ask him for the name next time you should meet

He'll be the one on the corner.

Whistling his solemn soliloquy

People often ask me where to find inspiration......


...I tell them it's at the bottom of a sea.