The human imperative tells you this if

nobody tried to live this way the useful world would be in vain.

A man, like me, sitting on this sagging bed, staring at the green

greased stained walls disgusted with the human imperative is unique.

I detest the ***** smell in the dingy brown halls and

the communal bathroom with bugs on the wall.

I know why you had me taken away not jailed this time.

I didn't hit you just spilled whiskey on your imperative new

furniture and dress. Now, whiskey is spilled on this brown

stained carpet and I have no more money. You saw to that!

I'm too sick to panhandle. Nothing to pawn. And the human

imperative makes me sicker. It doesn't consider really gut

hunger for love, ***, food, sleep, oblivion from the mind's

torments of failure. I didn't expect much from this life.

My brilliance kept me above the rest. I am brilliant enough to

know life can end here till they throw you in the alley to die.

There is no where to go. You say recovery? I say, Bull!

No one recovers from a plan like this. Not when you were

King of the road. Not when you wouldn't concede to others

needs because they were banal and stupid and nobody

accepted you drunk. I didn't hit you this time. I know when

I hit you. Some don't. I know I made a mess and was bad.

**** it, once in awhile one of us gets away. They do, imperative

or not...