He never sang Old man river,

but was tired of living and feared of dying from the day he was born.

His lack-luster eyes saw life as a heavy weight to carry.


Stuck in neutral— he treaded water, and never swam.


A life-less life— of colorless days— made no use of penis except for pissing—

never touched or been touched— his body wept, with cries not heard.


Adrift in a rudderless ship, he couldn’t sail,

surviving as a perennial outlier as vulnerable as a man without a shell

who never should have been cracked open.