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He wakes up. His body is held together by sweat and shame. It continues from there. There is no diaper on the sidewalk as he walks along the sidewalk where it has been for months fermenting so at least there is that. He writes lists he eats food he drinks coffee and hair grows out of his body it keeps on growing and it does not stop. He writes his name on his forehead but he does it backwards so that he can see it in the mirror. No one mentions that his name is written on his forehead. He eats trail mix and he strokes a pet hamster and he takes some pills that help him sleep and he watches succesfull people succeeding on television but he isn’t sure whether they are really succeeding or whether it is just edited that way for happy endings and triumphs while the detritus of their lives is washed down a long dark tube. He goes to sleep.

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