The Sunny Life of a Homeless North Denver Mexican Post Idiot's Apocolypse or The Fuck up.

I'm sitting down on the weather beaten picnic table a couple blocks from where I spend 8 hours every weekday pushing textile ink through a screen for those so inclined to play such interesting games as Lacrosse, Hockey, Field Hockey, and let's not forget the ever popular Squash. I'd never heard of the sport prior to working in this particular sweatshop. Uncultured you scoff? Maybe, but mostly I just don't give a fuck about sports. I digress. I'm sitting down to the table when I notice it; the smeared dirt on my knee. First I smile, then my conscience kicks in sounding like a disappointed parent or teacher, my face shifts expressions and contorts causing the muscles being utilized in my face to feel as though they are slowly being pulled to their capacity. Their painful protest reminding me I haven't eaten in a few days and the closest thing to water I've put my pipe tooting chapped lips to is cheap beer. This is my body warning the apathetic asshole manning the central processing unit in my cranial housing unit soon my body will begin final exercises to disengage this vessel permanently. I think of my father and I crack open the tab on the tall can of cheap poison and take several anxious swallows. As some of you more intuitive individuals may have so skillfully deduced, I'm a drug abuser/addict, I drink myself into drunkenness, sometimes, if finances permit, I buy methamphetamine, better known as crystal meth, go fast, Tina, glass, and the list goes on. It isn't an everyday addition, but it is enough to stress my finances and keep me marking time, preventing me from making any real progress in my life. In addition to these chemical dependencies, I have a sex and pornography addiction. This I believe to have been brought on by my early discovery of hardcore pornography and being molested at a very young age. I actually look fondly upon that time. It excited me in a way that I have never been able to achieve again. Being a man of education and a student of life and the streets, I realize how preposterous this psychosis must sound, but if I am to be truthful, than I must be accurate in my telling of my sordid tale. I realize that this will come as a shock, or not, to those of you that have known me decades. Others will have an easier time as I have, at brief moments, tried to confess this turmoil by which I feel enslaved. I am not a monster, most certainly an animal. I am an animal of great intelligence that learned to feed my primal desire rather than stifle it. This all brings me back to the filthy smudge crossing the top of my leg...