picasso in the early morning...

i stand between quiet city lights...smoking cigarettes, pissing on the grass...the moon floats through the cloudy rain swept skies...the tired new year-ed eyes...i watch the trees rising from the concrete...i negotiate double-visioned fences...the streets are clogged with the remnants of my inebriation...standing in the half-light i ponder broken down windows...the light from the basement, the light from my bed, soft and warm...what has brought me to this peace in the lower nineties...what has brought me to the smiling angel inside the door?...i dream vodka covered dreams...i see misty mountain horizons...and it falls away, like this cluttered room...like the shadow's soft embrace...