Wasteland

Perplexed sitting
Beneath sunlight
In the early morning
Shades on, hiding
My eyes which tell
The story of an addict.
Dazed wondering
The purpose of my actions
Hindered blazing
My path before me.
Erasing a future yet
To come
Only for a decadence
That satisfies the
Fiend of present time.
But somehow,
In that sunlight,
Beneath those shades,
Life is beautiful.
I am awake at 8am
And the sun rays
Bring life to a dying body
And hope to a mental wasteland.