Disease and isolation eat me alive. Now I walk with a limp. I limp to the liquor store late at night. I limp to the bus stop. Young women in black tights step into the streetlights. I follow them into light and shadow. I want to stroke my cock and kiss their legs. I am so tired of clocks sucking the air from rooms. I don't want to look at any of you anymore. I don't want to think about you. I want to finish dying before I'm dead.