cut to fade

without days
like this, the
ones that pass in
golden frames and
sunshine in eyes, how
could anyone ever
write a decent poem?
the rest of the ugly
ones fade a little,
the hours that
-unfortunately-
have been burned into
us, like a
brand on a cow.
but today, oh, today;
gives me hope
that there are others
like it, somewhere.
the leaves are greener,
the breeze cooler,
and my smile, brighter.
and the money,
the boys,
the everything that fences me in...
it fades, and
stops making such
incoherent babble.
today, i
make sense.

k.