My name is Chad. My hip now cracks every third step like the cold has eaten into it or the road has ground my bones to dust.
I have been walking for ages set like stone in this direction. I told myself to keep walking until everything makes sense. But nothing's wrong with things, it's me that's gone all wrong.
My boots have come aground too many times and they've split apart. I walked forever with a flap of sole smacking the upper. What I wouldn't give for a piece of tape. I'd turn back into a man from this silly clown clapping away, trying to keep his socks dry so his toes don't fall right off.
Never get me cheaper than now, dulled like this from hunger and chill, feeling the pain of blood warm through my veins against this firelight. My front is warm though my back is frozen and my butt is barking about all those steps. A complaint lodged for everyone. Take issue with me for anything. I don't mind. In fact, it's the only sure thing left to me. My wrongness.