Moods

Peter smoked his cigarette slow, tonight. He took deep long puffs, favored the smoke in his mouth and let his lungs bask in the toxic smoke. It had just finished raining and the temperature had gone down significantly. The weather in florida was moody, just like himself. When the sun was out, it was hot and humid and when it went down, it was cold and clammy. Peter hands were rough and hard. He spent all his days working but never had any time to enjoy himself, nonetheless did he have much money to spend. "There's better things for you, petey boy" his concionse told him. But all he could hear was his mind telling him "Your worthless piece of shit."