And there it is. Maybe, you have let this go on too long. You have definitely let this go on too long. This trick wants to fuck you in the ass. Maybe, you could run. Running has all kinds of problems as a plan. It is not a plan. You close your eyes tight. You are hungry. It hurts. Your stomach is like gravel from the gravel pit. Oh, sailor. This fuck would be the last fuck of the night. You needed food. Real food. You’d been stealing it. If you got caught, it would be detention. The trick didn’t look like he had AIDS. You are so far over your head. I predict, you won’t make it out here another month. The world is a disease. There is no escape. No food. No hope. You surrender. I so hate it when people I know bring up the subject of hope. There has to be hope, right. There is only one thing of any significance in life. You have enough money for today’s one meal, or you don’t. You seriously begin to question if you could go on like this. That brief moment of terrified truth. All dreams are corrupt.