Vital limbs of mine

Many a night have you rode home with heavy eyes. Too much drink.
Who even says that?
The unique. The unique who care enough to actively emulate creative forebears.
Tired.
The man across from you is old and a creeper. You hate that term, but it applies with all fire of definition now.
When he was your age, did he know it was in his interest to provide for himself? Work hard? Get a law degree? Have kids who would be successful? That way he could at least be an old creeper with some tie to legitimacy.
No. This old man is purely a lecher. There is no purity of heart. He had never intended any different. He looks every girl up and down their entire stretch, violating them with every eye tick. He salivates with lust. He  is lonely.
Fuck.  I am lonely.  We are all lonely.
But for him, there is no forgiveness for lack of any foresight. He lived like a Buddhist - in the present - in the worst way possible.  And he paid for it.  In his case, being present-minded reflected selfishness. Mindlessness was his sin.
And so he aged. Thinking nothing but of himself, with nobody to love and no children of which to pass the baton.
Farewell, thy lecher. You will suffer a fate worse than being forgotten. You will grow old and ugly. You will lust after young flesh that wishes no part of your deteroirating condition. Not only shall you be rendered irrelevant, but disgusting as well. You are a disgusting lecher who knows not his place. Just die already and leave the young alone.

The youth speaks. He says, let me off wherever on the subway. Vital limbs of mine, I shall run home.
Drop me off wherever. I care not of the leper. Vital limbs will carry me home. Big breaths. Playing woodwinds growing up, I can swim a length under water. I can breathe deep gasps to carry me across continents.
I am young!