I Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.

Sometimes the sun
Represents an exploding ball of rage
I often feel
Festering through blood vessels.
My inner sun
Is filled with particles of pain.
Sometimes I do feel the sharp talons of stigma
Latching onto my ribcage
Ready to rip it out through the ever increasing pores
Of my skin.
There are still times
Where I feel that everybody around me
Is part of some sort of glee club.
I attempt to take the high road.
They're more than willing to take the low road.
My mind often travels to Scotland
Where bundles of nerves
Are interlaced
Like the patterns of a kilt
Thin constricted strips of blue
Boxed in by swatches of red.
The spirit of the heart on a Celtic uniform.
I've consciously chosen
Not to pep myself up
To some kind of rally amongst the chronically normal.
I live among them
But refuse to subscribe to the notion
That I must be like them.
That I must shut off the parts of my brain
That allow me to be the imaginative person
I strive to be.

II. Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.

I will admit
That there have been times
Where that ball of rage
Has made me weep uncontrollably at nights.
Those are times
Where I feel like bashing my skull through the wall,
Hoping that these tormenting thoughts will cease.
Hoping that these voices truly are manufactured
And that the devil is toying with me.
There are moments
Where I wish those tears
Would flood fields of fake grass
With people who think they've been protected by helmets,
Those shields from the suckitude of life.
Astroturf covered with acid
That seeps through leather and spandex.
Once again,
It's me v. them.
My epiglottis stimulated
By screams of unbridled rage
Towards the status quo.

III. Sunshine on the water looks so lovely

Even after sailing through serotonin seas
I know not whether I'll float or sink,
But that sun keeps reflecting upon it.
That fucking ball of fiery rage
Unleashes itself
Upon the waters
As my teeth mash together
Until they turn to chalky dust.
I often write hymns of depression
Hundreds of times among the surface
Of a rippling plain.

IV. Sunshine almost always makes me high

Sunshine,
In it's purest form,
Does elevate my spirit
And does not always represent unabashed anger.
These days,
I try to put aside
Those feelings
That I will always be hurt
And let their love flow and grow
Within my heart.
There's the true homecoming,
And maybe I'll be king someday,
Or at least a benevolent dictator in my own rite.

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