The Sky-Serpent's Dream

Mr. Grey

Mr. Grey

(December 4, 2014)

I am tired, deep in my bones,

So much so I know I'm alive.

The numbness proves what I know,

Proves that I survived.

Mr. Grey takes the stool beside me.

He's tall and thin, with a mean poker face,

He's damn good company.

He's the sort who only wants second place.

He orders a Black and Tan,

Says it reminds him of home.

I have no quarrel with this plan.

Aren't we all just trying to get home?

And Mr. Grey, he stumbles through eternity,

Drunk as a leopard,

Still sharp as a knife, and keen.

He just keeps moving forward.

They have the game on in the bar,

And Mr. Grey asks who we root for here.

It's a subtle hint that he's been far,

But he still comes back to chat and share a beer.

Mr. Grey redefines our everything.

He knows the value of a sunrise.

At night he wonders what dawn will bring,

And for each and every day he mourns and cries.

Tomorrow's another day.

And we know it is around the bend,

But Mr. Grey bids us to wait,

Find peace tonight among our friends.

Each and every passing dusk

He wanders through a glorious new life

When everything is lovely enough

You never know the glory of a knife.

He picks up the sharp utensil,

Flicks it from one hand to the next

Flicks pills into his empty throat

And tries his best not to be depressed.

Because there's a story there,

One that we will never know,

We never tell stories, just say "Take care,

I'll see you tomorrow like before."

And Mr. Grey makes every day amazing

Because he knows the alternatives.

And he is endlessly pacing

Between day and night and peace and business.

Still, every day is beautiful

If you take the time to make it so.

Mr. Grey leaves the bar unsteady,

His friends will drive him home.

And they all know,

That everything is beautiful.

Mr. Grey doesn't drink to see it.

He drinks so he can find the words

To tell us all what he's seen.

And we drink for the same reasons everyone drinks,

But we're there for the words.

We're there to hear that everything is beautiful.

Because everything is beautiful.

And if it takes a bipolar alcoholic to say it,

That is beautiful.