have a boy in me. A child who grew a beard and was thrown into the world of suspicion, and shut doors. Where there is ways to make money. But no way to buy true kindness. 

Or love.

I don't want to possess anyone. And I'm not likely to be a possession. But I am in a boy in a man's form. I have passions and dreams. 

And I can love. A lot. I can be funny, sarcastic, sad and colourful at the same time. My hands might be rough, clothes patched, beard unshaved. But I kiss softly, laugh loudly and love living.

I want a girl. The other part of my man half. The warm to my frigid. The soft to my hard. The laughter to my jest. 

I don't have a job, car, place in this society. I don't desire it. Not now. Not ever. I'll find my own people. When I do, I'll know. Maybe they exist. Maybe they don't.

But I can be your love in these fleeting moments. If you feel like a hitchhiker, rough around the edges and soft inside, can make you happy. Then step into my heart.