he
wakes
to sand
surrounding
him, the beige granules
clinging to his skin, attempting
to find their forever home. alas, he does not have
time for them. he picks himself up and trudges on, unwilling to yield until he's healed.

he
walks,
wanders
aimlessly
along the desert,
searching for an oasis that
he'll never find, for it does not belong to him. but
there is no convincing him once his mind is set, so we let him persist anyway.

he
does
not know
where he is,
only where he should
be, where he wants to be, and what
he wants to be. a good person? out of the question;
those morals are long outdated. he'll settle for being something really, wholly him.