The Hopelessly Lost

Those who encounter a death by misadventure,
Around every corner, of every street,
Those who gnaw their fingernails daily,
Those who walk around in rags, worn down shoes,
Trip over their own feet, and land in the nearest bar,
Those who talk for hours over cigarettes and beer,
Part-time philosophers and conspiracy theorists,
Those who tangle with danger in the blink of an eye,
Those who grow mind-sick with the weight of their own consciences,
Those who stumble home, drunk at three in the morning,
And don’t wake up till two the following afternoon,
Those who hunt in threadbare pockets for their last spare change,
To hand to the beggar and his hound,
Those who watch other people through the coffee shop window,
Waiting for something interesting to happen,
Those who have everything they need in their minds,
And nothing they need to survive,
Those who waste their words on strangers,
Those who’ve reinvented themselves a thousand times,
A thousand and one…
Those who leave the house as dishevelled,
As the moment they woke up,
Those who know not only the pleasure but, the pain of love,
Those who are hopelessly lost, without direction,
Those who never stop looking for that something they are missing,
Those who offer themselves up freely to the gutter,
Those who know the real meaning, of blood, sweat, and tears,
Those who drown in the wine of their days,
Those who were old before they were born,
Those who grow bored of the system by age thirteen,
Those who you can rely on in a crisis,
Because they’ve walked the same road,
Those who spit in the face of pretence,
Those who can spot a fake in an instant,
Those who never look back,
Those who break with conformity,
Those who challenge adversity,
Those who suffocate in their emotions,
These are my friends.

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