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.