He had a stack of dimes for a @#$% that he kept hidden from his young
tormentors. She crapped her pants and when it started to stink they laughed her
up a railing high above the river. A !@#$ 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 and 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 $#&@! There's a $#&@ing 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 ($#&@ing 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.