Old
In time that it is present
I can feel
What? I feel the breath that seeps right through
my veins and blood.
The utter whisper of innocence
Without the compulsory echo of condescending do-gooders.
However when I do suffer
and bones ache like swollen doors
I wish to re-live sweet sickly infant.
To pack my mouth with grinding sugary confections
To neglect to brush my teeth soon after
To run regardless of the pain
And spring out to stranger the mocking tongue of youth.
I wish to mock
philanthropist, pompous, arrogant human.
I want to cycle in the battering rain
Whilst screaming echoed breaths in the wind brash wind.
Just before I die
I want to live again.
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