the boy/man thrives

until dreams fail to pay the bills

the man loses the boy/

stands very much alone

makes his living cutting wood

in oak and hickory forests

ill-suited to the work, it is

too hard, and the bar too near

oblivion is his only option

or, the option he chooses

not the first to do so, all he

has to do is look around the bar

it isn't a bad way to go

it's numbing, and losing yourself

bit by bit, a leg here, an eye there

until what's left hardly matters

the boy/man wouldn't have

envisioned this, but the man

can envision nothing else

not even his boy/self

he wreaths himself in smoke

cigarettes he rolls, drinks

and smokes, works

when he has to

dies a bit too young

there are those who judge him

but few, for who can be bothered

to notice, much less care