Running from an inevitable future,

only a few steps and a hurdle ahead

of failure.

Slips, sprains, broken-hearted dreams,

unbridled debt ditch-deep.

Hair clogs the drain as poor genetics

take up residence like unwanted family.

Bald boys aren’t beautiful.

Future romantic dates require a preamble,

better bring a jacket for the cold shoulder.

Six years too old

for five years of expected experience.

Entry-level every time.

Champion couch surfer, catching waves

on a longboard of neck cramps.

Home-where bound.

Vagabond, drifter, low-rent gypsy.

Bohemian bastard.

A chip off the old southern block.

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