i found it while i was looking through my numerous pages of crap i've written over the years, and sent it to him, finally.
(as an aside, his nickname for me was smiley, and his room was covered in pictures of frogs with banjo's)
a smiley face lies disconcerted
upon a bed bejeweled with regret and uncertainties
cursed incessantly by an unbeknownst disdain
for the present situation of immobile inability
an inability to settle, to care
to expose the tender fleshy vices of distressed composition
but most importantly
an inability to show emotion
to even frown
for fear that the world may crumble
in the absence of a steadfast symbol of happiness
a happiness that lies indifferently on a single thread of grace
mixed haphazardly with black and red
staring impassively above to the circling dragon flies
who patiently await their moment to encompass ultimate gleeful glory
and as darkness encloses, surrounding the round yellow cheeks of a legend
doped up on opiates of reveries and the white clouds of desolation
a light is turned on by a leaping shadow
adorned by wit, respite, a smile
and a banjo strung carefully with iridescent nonentity
all seemingly more real than the sweet nothings of past
a joke, a laugh, an irrepressible craving for more
morning came slowly, peeking shyly from gloom's corner
rising fiercely, shedding light on the power of existence
a smiley face rises, walking carelessly across the blind depths of reality
pausing, fleetingly, gawking at the emulation appearing
a new and improved smiley face left to greet the hooligans of humanity
a smiley face, now, with a heart.
