Mosslight.

I deleted my old blog. It was no longer an apt representation of who, or what, I am.

I was sitting in the bath and the word 'Mosslight' came to me. I thought it was pretty. Like Cellar Door. I think I first heard that from Donnie Darko. His teacher tells him that one of the most beautiful combinations of words in the English language is 'Cellar Door'. I like Mosslight.

After my shower I went outside and had a cigarette. It has been raining and drizzling all day long; it is now 1:59 AM MST. The rain is extremely peaceful to me. I sucked in the cigarette smoke, full of poisons and chemicals. I fully accept what is in it, government propaganda aside. You can literally feel the harsh smoke burn away your lungs, even as the sickly-sweet addiction works it's effect on the brain.

This world is grey.
Let me explain.

The moist, cold air was sweet. Cleansing. But it was that very air that fueled the cigarette as it burned, picking up chemicals as it traveled down the paper tube, through the filter, and deep into my lungs.

The sounds of the rain hitting the wood deck were peaceful, but off in the distance sirens wailed. In my minds eye I could see the police cars rolling down the wet asphalt, their black tires shiny and slick, the streetlights reflecting off of the beads of water on their windshields.

This world is a grey one, and no matter how hard one might try, nothing is purely black or white. That is from where my frustration stems, my pain, my sickness, my desperation. But also my hope, my joy, my life.

I find the sun's light harsh and unforgiving. But every now and then my body yearns for it's bright rays. I am not all good. But I am not all bad. Nobody is.