He had a stack of dimes for a dink
that he kept hidden from his young tormentors.
She crapped her pants and when it started to stink
they laughed her up a railing high above the river.

A goddamn beige curse.
She couldn't imagine worse.
She once was known for her art.
Not anymore.
His mom caught him jerking when she got home from work a
nd it drove him to stick needles in his arm.
She gave one blowjob in the back of a van
and the clap quickly spread across her lips.
Oh fuck! There's a fucking curse!
She couldn't imagine worse.
They thought she was such a nice kid.
Not anymore. A bumpy road for thimbledicks and pube-less dweebs.
You with the natural perm!
The brown-toothed the bald-spotted bottle-glassed puds (Fucking Halfhead).
Boneracked spazzed with limp handshakes, zit cream ordered by mail.
No-boobed girls, man-boobed boys.
His mom picks his clothes and SHE smells like pee.
These are the mean streets.
Don't kill yourself. Adulthood's worse.
Don't kill yourself at all.
Yet.