There is always Light

Friday used to be a night for hitting up clubs, getting to the bottom of any bottle and swaying girls into a long, sloppy make out. Today the club hound was chained in his cold small room , dark all around him , fingers dug into his scalp holding his head from sinking any lower. Depression gnarled him piece by piece.

The sound of rain tic-tacking against the window only fueled his depression to swallow him more. He is jailed inside his polluted mind, navigating through his venomous thoughts like he was led by some spiritual GPS that was supposed to get him to his salvation but it kept messing up driving him in circles; and he was already set to  plump out. Streams of tears burst out, and sobbing ignored every pause felt like he was wiped out after being sacrificed to this emotional grinder.

In the end, once the pain and agony had its encore,  a hunch sparked up inside him that he is to  keep marching until the first light;  that all of this is a spectrum of life and all he has to do is enjoy his favorite colors as often as possible.