pity case

This hapless sleazebag hypocrite 
only washes his hands of anything 
where the paydirt sticks. He just 
flushes and soaps it off. If there's gold 
in that muck he struggles and scrapes
and comes to grips into, it's a fool
he is, and won't see its glint. It's a shame
all through. What a waste of an act. With
his lack of character, he could have
any lady he wants to tell him fuck off.
Any job in the world, to cut him like loss.
Why he should have succeeded most
splendidly in a number of lines,
by now! But he says 

at least he's free. 

And it's true. No one pays 

All his service is bad 
all his product is hot 
all his brand has as bad a name 
as he's got, and it stays.
It's too late for him. It's too

late to miss 

when you've got no shot, 
just the driving and surging
resentment and
the indignant will 
it would take to win,

if one had any sport. But
you don't my friend. And
he's not my friend. And
he's got no game. His is all
posterized. Photoshopped. On paper, 
thin, unconvincingly pasted in 
and framed. 

No bill. 

For the honest critique! But 
I am sincere. And I hope you could
find all the way you seek, try 
direction: door. Or 

is that not enough? 
I have all the more.