A Sardonic Sunrise

Shadows of little mariachi men on my curtains as the Sun says, "Good morning."
They play me a jig in a sense that joyous occasions are on the horizon.
Like today is going to be a good day.
The kind of day to be proud to wake up to instead of waging war over every extra second in bed.
But as turn and exit, the spiral takes hold, the dominoes tilt, the day swallows me whole.
Still in darkness, my mind stumbles around like a lonely drunken soul at rock bottom, I come to. Current circumstances do not resemble this desperate tragedy of an image, but in an artist's mind, hues can be worked to illustrate pain and suffering in a beat.

The smells of heavy chemicals now waft in my olfactories, the taste now color my lips, in Perry-blue and Minaj-purple. She wants to be a rock star, she wants to pose for those people watchers and feel righteous in her apparent differences. While she waits for her next application, his eyes burn through me, his pupils shift and lens focus, and it burns both the chemicals he mixes and his stare. I do what I came to do and slip back out, into the normal cold air.

My driving is terrible. Jerks and Zags. No Zigs, said I was off today.

Melting now into the swift fallacy or hocus-pocus that belong here. That I'm welcome and this is my home away from home. Well, what is home for a drifter? What is love when you've broken that sense of feeling? What is trust, when one day or another, people will let you down. But who cares when there's work to do?

They cackle a crisp, unkind breathe toward the plea of the hardly-noticed. He gives up, beaten, defeated, floats back, out of the world i can see....
once, twice.....three times a criminal, today is not a day for innocence. Like those chemicals that filled my face, I keep drifting from place to place, till there's hardly any trace, and my life-time, a closed case.

                              Such a beautiful apparition from a sardonic sunrise.