Dopamine

Did the creator(s) of his chemicals wreck his chemicals ? Or did he recklessly wreck them on his own ? He stormed almost violently through the evening, half an hour after dark, scowling and barking at enemies unseen; he seemed to be peculiarly caught between reproachful suburban streetlamps, always half a pace ahead of and behind the previous and the next. He marched almost violently through the midday, cool and bright; his scowl and bark were armed with a lead pipe to secure his next square metre of temporary space, and even the speeding traffic could not deny his belligerent passage. He sat almost violently in the cold, grey defeat of early morning, scowl and bark, as always, I think, and the bricks and cars and shopfront windows may have quivered or laughed, I haven't had time to ask them, not that they'd be bothered with me. The uniforms were calm, unflappable, his bark and scowl remained fearless as ever, but became oddly innocuous, they knew each other by now. He may be smart enough and unsound enough to understand that a dark, familiar cell is a place to go when you have no place to go; or it may be simpler or more complex, he may be smart enough and unsound enough to not know the difference at all. It's Friday, late afternoon, and I have no idea where he'll be tonight. 24th August 2018