New Day, New Me.

There exists in the hearts of all people a connection to something profound within their inner self, it drives the soul and keeps the mind working. It is a purpose and you should find this purpose, for when you do it will become the most important day of your life.

Lying at the bottom of the hill with a stained beard, fag ash rubbed into the equally stained shirt the man opened his eyes and looked to his left and to his right. His eyes were sticky with sleep and clearing his throat from the sting of sick he gagged a little coming to awareness of the pain in his joints. The memory was

lost as always, fallen into the emptiness of the bottle but he didn’t really care, the bottom of this hill was only a stop gap before the next drink. It was his solace from the pain, well thats what he told himself. Truthfully he didn’t really know, he did enjoy it. Darkness is very welcoming to a wandering name.

The thing with alcohol as many people know is the effect it can have almost immediately, its just these effects vary from person to person. Some will laugh some will get all emotional and lean upon their friends for support. Violence can be an effect on some minds, but mostly its a happy fog that loosens the tongue and widens the smile, an interesting commodity this alcohol. The most destructive drug on the planet and everyone is lapping it up like spilled money. The inebriated man at the bottom of the hill looked down at his shoes and remembered his name for the first time that day, he will forget it later but thats not for this mornings mind to worry about, he remembered it was Moon.

The weather was becoming threatening with its gloomy clouds and grey sky, fitting his mood like a shakespearian play. Fucking drunk again aren’t you he thought. Sick as a cat rough as a rat and no fucking use to anyone. These thoughts roamed their familiar paths across his mind. It was a regular thing I wouldn’t worry.

Moon picked himself up and started to move his legs in a forward, slightly straight direction and wondered to himself if the dawn of a new day might be the good one, the thing to aim for today. Something to ponder Moon thought. Lets just get a drink first.

If you make it eighteen years on this planet and in this country you are legally allowed to plot the destruction of your life one gulp at a time, it sounds depressing I know, personally I love a fucking drink but to our dear character its magic in a bottle, its the release of the genie from its slumber to grant you the world, it stops the hands shaking and it calms the voice. The bell rang as the door opened.

Moon took a look at himself in the mirror on the side of one of the aisles, bag of shit. He chose the mid range wine, just two bottles for the meantime as he had some walking to do. Walking gives a man a purpose, sometimes. Endless wandering isn’t helpful but when the homeless have nothing but time it can be a

distraction. There was destination this day though, just poor Moon didn’t know. Fleetwood Mac was playing a live concert, it was absolutely off the chain it was lively and loud and the voices, they were serene. Stevie Knicks was a babe, a stunner. The rest of the people around Moon couldn’t hear this though, it was a private show and all from the enclave of his mind. The quality of the sound would have made hi-fi industries balk, Moon was rocking out. The first bottle had been drunk before he had walked two hundred metres from the off license and the shakes had gone, the joints were oiled and the clouds looked slightly less grey, she was working old mother wine.

As he rocked out he walked around a corner and saw a buddy of his, in mid lyric he caught the sight of silver foil in his hand.

“Shade if that is fucking spice I’ll put it in a bin myself because its garbage mate.”

The man called Shade quickly turned his head and with fierce eyes he guarded the foil in his hands, oblivion in a moment, kind of trumps the alcohol. It’s a well known problem among the streets and Moon wasn’t a fan. He fell over a spice user once, broke his bloody glasses.

“Moon my man, its not what it looks like. Leave me alone today mate, I had a rough night,”

“Wake up at the bottom of a hill did you? I couldn’t remember my name this morning.”

“No, but thats not my guilt brother, you’ve always loved the wine and ciggys.”

Moon walked forwards and took a gulp of his second bottle and gave Shade a hug, he did hate the spice but sometimes release from the cold concrete helped.

“Alright Shade have it your way, see ya down the woods sometimes yeah?”

Shade mumbled a quick thank you and goodbye and closing his hands over the foil wrap he let Moon walk by, he liked Moon, just a fucking wino. Too idealistic those bastards. Time to get fucked up baby.

Midday came to its fruition in a feeble show, not even the clouds acknowledged its grace, Moon looked up into the sky and stuck his tongue out for a chance of rain, he was fond of the rain it made him feel more alive, in suffering the body is at it’s most capable. Plus the wine dampened the effect. He had made a decision, just then, out of the blue. He was going to walk to the outskirts of the city, Never been that far before, working, living and being homeless all had kept him in the centre, never know might be a good wine shop out there.

The day stretched on and Moon kept walking. His feet had never taken these new steps before and he thought to himself this actually is a good day, sticking to larger roads he kept a more direct line of movement across the city, the sweat on Moon’s forehead was showing his efforts and he smiled. Fucking hell, the two words he found himself saying quite a lot that day, never seen that part of town, never knew there were so many bloody streets. The las of the wine had been slugged a while back now and he was searching for the next haunt, just a couple more bottles today. No spirits he told himself, trying hard to be convincing. He spotted a shop, an actual wine shop, bloody hell. It was then that the bus hit him.

One week later.

The lights were flashing and the alarm was going off, Moon was having his second cardiac arrest that day and the nurses were rushing to save the life of this unknown man. He had more blimp marks on his shirt from cigarette burns then he did hairs on his head, the beard was matted the clothes were soiled and the eyes when examined from unconsciousness looked to of been bought second hand. He was a mess. A broken shell, a roll of cash and a corkscrew. The worldly possessions of a dying man.

Moon woke up for what would be his last hour on the planet and talked softly to a nurse, he spoke to her of his name and where he had lived, he cried for a little bit and held dry for little bit longer. He asked to see her smile and asked to see her tits. She smiled and refused, bless. The one thing he actually wanted to tell the young nurse was to give his permission to take his organs. He wondered

aloud if they took fingers and toes too and begged for a drink, she held him at the end and he knew amongst the soft of her shoulder that he might actually be of some worth today. This thought warmed him enough for his heart to tear and flood his chest cavity with blood. Ending the life of Moon. Moon found a purpose at the end, to help give hope to others who didn’t choose a path, who didn’t have a road to stride down with straight shoulders, to show people that a sou can be pure. To forget the mistakes of past youth, to help at least someone go that extra inch to fulfil pride in the human nature again. Admittedly his liver would of been shit but his soul was pure enough to light a thousand lighthouses.

Dear reader of mine, in the new year take a look at someone sometimes when the opportunity arises. Give them an apple throw them a smile and do what I do, have a good fucking cry. Heres to Moon, he’s closer to you than you think.