Senses

In the morning: As I walk with the unrelenting chip on my shoulder, chains around my ankles and dust in my eye, I follow the only sense that guides me under the bright lights.

My digestive tract barks and I cover my ears intolerable to even the slightest click from the changing traffic lights.

I ignore the obnoxious rays that tamper with my gentile eye lids and kick dirt to spite my complete disposition, all the while keeping distance from the hordes of stampede lined up in fashion in every possible direction.

A single touch might tick me, hit me and I'll make sure you won't use your peripherals again. I am not your friend.

In the morning I go back to the future of Mr. Grumpy, kind of clumsy still my heightened sense of sniffing out the goons might save me.

Only in the morning my nose knows best.