Mistaken For an Opium Prince

When i awake it shines brightly into my eyes, the talk and mad laughter from the night before and the insanity that was passed as i stood there watching a transvestite play the keyboard and my jerky head movements back and forth, while Phil stood there, to the left, he left into a side room and returned with a feather and a wig. he placed the wig on top of my bald head and put my hat back on. now i had an itchy wig and a warm beer. as i started to clap my hands went up and the glass of beer fell to the ground making the loudest, cracking shaking sound. i seriously felt close to death. i saw it once, with his head cocked over to the side watching me and teasing me, sticking his tongue in some girls ear and laughing at me. i reached into my wallet i mean pocket to try and find some pennies to throw at him, but then i remembered i had absolutely no money, i had to go around to different public restrooms and steal rolls of toilet paper because i was running so low on cash. i had my wits about me, that was all one could have at a time like this, with death knowing and knocking on my head, with holes in my pockets and a smile on my face, i said, "come and get me you son a f a bitch, but make sure you bring the whole army with you, i'm not going down without a fight, i will tear your eyes out and piss down your mouth, you don't scare me."
the sad sorry truth was that it did scare me, we're all a little scared, admit it, i'm not scared of going, or the pain of going, i want to see it, and when you go, thats it. poof. times up.
when i'[m h ere, i want to kiss it each night and follow it into my dreams, and burn with it into the sun each morning, i want to awake with my face immersed in it and fall asleep with my arms around it, i want to breath it in with each breath and take it in with each meal, i want to be consumed by life and never. never. like a witch flying her broom at night, i won't let it take over.
prolix... who are you to conform?
i could be just sitting here with nothing, instead i'm sitting here with laughter pouring out of each pore, it's a sweet sound, my voice raising in the pitch with each grab bag full of joy and excellence, don't ever epect acceptance on any other level except for the kind you can produce on your own, it rolls out onto the hilly grass and they prick the back of your neck as you lay down under a tree shade with the sun rolling high above the ridge, the bums sit around with their long coats and every once and awhile sneak a look at the girls who bring their dogs to the park, they see those small dresses and short skirts and a mans immagination cant help but run wild over the hills with that rock my uncle once threw. way over the hills towards the ocean where the land meets the water and i walk into it, submerge my ankles in it, feel the pain and glory of it, feel the trees and seaweed of it, feel the red tide around my waist and in my lungs, swallowing gulps of water and plankton.
always remember the plankton