The Discharge

He’s together now, they say, turned out, free to walk the street; adult child turned out to play amid grey walls of concrete streets strewn with disposed joys, the stench of human fluids. Bozos wave their lethal toys; aging goths, pseudo druids, faces lit by flashing screens. promenading, zombie-dead watch desperate dancing teens, nature’s lemmings, AI lead. He’s together now, He’s told, so discharged, they need the bunk; adult child thrown in the cold amid barely walking drunk searching, seeking that which numbs the pain, soul-crushing shame. Left to beg for others’ crumbs he just has himself to blame they say, go scare up some work. he does, then try as he might he’ll catcall some guy a jerk, end up in another fight.