The sun's not up yet but soon,
The air is dry the wind cold,
A dark street, trash scattered about,
a few mice near by eating from the gutter.
The smell of old food and ***** lingers on the sea salted breeze.
It's a corner street in miami,
Theres a few people living in tents near by,
Some arguing around the corner sirens in the distance as the eco of a near by freeways traffic floats on with the sound of clubs and bars, the sound of a city.
I've walked for hours as this night draws its end and day starts, my ride pulls up, I jump in and head home.
I take the side door, i always have, makes me feel like i have privacy, not much but some in this house with my uncle his wife and my grandmother.
My rooms dark with the shades down light enough not to need a light but dark enough for naps, I drop a bag on the floor, drop another in the bed, and then I throw myself to the pillows.
I always found some solice in laying alone watching the dust particles float by the sun's light peaking through the blackout curtains, I always think of when I was a child, or my old apartment, these were comfortable to me.
I layed there looking up words, I do this sometimes, especially after reading often, I'd look up a word that intrested me, then I'd try to find as many words in germaneness, that means," in relevance to".
I found several words that peaked my intrest, and they were separated by a basic understanding,
One is with intent to leave serious issues the other is the intent to leave discomfort,
The difference is as great as harm and hurt.
Placing my back down, I decided to watch the dust,
Even moving about a blanket in order to stir more into my view of the beams of light, I hadn't slept by now, I was shaking in fear hours prior, and moments after this a total desire for smarting,as I punched a tree. I punched until the bark came off and I was punching nothing more then the juicy flesh of the tree its self.
I simply felt and felt the need to continue to feel pang.
When I reach a certain point of defeat or anguish I feel the need to dwell in it, and so I did so. Hands painted knuckles red not ******,
And my lungs give me an old smoker's body hello, shorty after another ****** cough to follow.
I clearly should have stopped smoking hours prior but at this point the taste of blood is familiar as it mixed in with the nicotine,
Another cough, my eyes heavy I start to sleep, wakingnup in a panic over and over I retain my self enough to close my eyes again and again.
Its tiresome now, theres not much point in fighting it.
So again and again I close my eyes to wake in panic.
Relentlessly fearing my own slumber.
