hours on the road.
to work and back to home.
paste that perfect smile on my face each day.
grin like a 1920’s hustler slinging souvenirs.
some days i really wish i was elsewhere.
some days it’s good to be here.
this weather doesn’t know what it wants.
frost in the morning.
sun peaks from behind the clouds.
sweltering heat by noon.
what’s a young blood to do?
maybe i’m not so young anymore…
i’ve been reading and eating healthy.
paying bills and counting tills.
focusing on the high ends.
so i don’t focus my board and hide in bed.
need to take wheels to concrete again.
take in the sights and sounds of this town.
find a place where i truly want to stay.
take comfort in coming home.
your face is a good start.
but the space around it needs to fit.
this house is a piece of shit.