Another piece of mine. I'm the fuck hungry stump with no working brain and not much of a liver left either. Hulking hunchback - and if you saw me, I'd be falling along with all the others, hands in my back pockets, erratic and wandering to find my own path. I'm upright but dead on my feet, leaning forwards into air, eyes flitting from one obscene moment to the next and I attack the floor with my feet, putting miles between me and the rest of humanity, across the floor of a dirty bar. My father is here and he watches my stumble. Watches me crawl through shit. I have nothing. I want nothing. He says: "Son, you were a proud man once, you could stand tall with your head held high. You could walk with confidence and you'd come out ahead - you were motivated. But here you are, on your hands and knees with all the world kicking you down. What happened?" "That's just the way I walk now".
