Gay Paris.

Suits, fine haircuts, dainty meals, beautiful woman, vexed brows.

Mechanic Barista efficiency.

I’m well disguised; long winter coat, new pants, leather boots.

Forget it though, they know it all came from a basket off the street.
It's clear, I haven’t showered in weeks.
No one's getting fooled.

‘Juste une café s’il vous-plait’

‘D’accord’

Ill be in the woods soon anyways,
pissing on trees, fucking in tents, screaming to the sky.

Dirty. High. Alive.