I barge into life like a barrel full of bourbon lit with a beeswax wick.

After starving for four and a half years, I contrived an urban survival technique that only factored in quarters and reeking like *****.

I found several ways to kife away hours of free wifi off of my free smart phone given by the church to help with job searches.

Lucky, I had several minutes to myself to make believe.

Lucky, I was too cold to find time to cry, and grieve about a golden age that'd really only made sense when I engaged in backwards thinking.

Life can stink, and that made me happy; that I held so much in storage, and it'd assuaged away my insecurities in fear.

I used old times like leftovers; to build a porridge of a heart poured over stale soup and beer, and left out, but it'll be the last thing I can find on a life boat to bail me out of bitter makings.