I would like your opinions.

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Hey /lit/.
I've been trying to write a short story for a contest for a little while and I've just started out a new one.
Can I have your opinions on it please?

I will give you a snippet of the main characters introduction.
(PS. This is a very first draft, I haven't gone over it yet so it will be full of imperfections.)
----- ----- -----

It was a dirty day.

The rain hammered against the roofs around him, swilling algae and muck around in the gutters, finally spewing it out onto the dark stone road.

He heaved himself up the stone road in a zig-zag stagger, swaying left and then right,one backstep followed by an exhausted pause.

His eyes drew tightly shut as his body shook. Hunger tightened it's grip over him. Pain filled the gaps.

Opening his eyes he watches the black water carrying the city's reuse over his feet and down to the bottom of the road.

He thought about how simple life would be if he just gave up and went with the flow. To let the current have it's way with him and finally drop him off at the bottom with all of the other sane people.

But he wasn't sane. He had an insane dream, an impossible dream, but he knew it was all he damn well wanted.

He raised his eyes and felt his head become lighter. He took a sharp inhale and watched as the stone road became the top of the street, become the rooftops, become grey clouds, become rooftops again which then became realisation.

Falling backwards down a hill had always been an odd sensation he thought. It was as if you had gone through the floor and would continue to keep spinning for all of eternity.

Until, of course, reality came back with a blinding crack.

He untensed and lay on the ground. The white flashes lingered and he watched the private light show play out on the grey clouds above.

"Figures. I'm too heavy to float" he thought.

Once the light show had petered out to an uneventful but welcome climax he tried to rediscover his limbs. A task which, in his current state, was trickier than he had thought it'd be.

At the top of the street a carriage plodded up over the horizon. Nestled comfortably on the shoulders of four prisoners wearing sodden hemp tunics. Their faces were battered and split with sharp, cruel, eyes glaring out from beneath the guard captains favourite invention. The skull helmets.

----- ----- -----

There is more, but this is just a bit. What do you think?
Also excuse the picture. I don't have many saved on here. So here's a picture of a crowd on stage with a band at a local bar of mine.