Title : Forty five days into old age
Aged 50 years ahead .
My will holding my mental tone ,
and my mouth having a mind of its own .
Hurts me as much as others
Whence I speak .
The backyard boy was ready to help.
Off course , that skinny wretch
Could stop my old lady whimper!
Distractions and drama!
“You’re in the mood”.
Dreams and a little more of that idiocy,
unusual habits and tics,
“You’re in the mood, focus!”
What honest promises to make ,
Before I bend them and they break ?
Yes, I forgot - my mood was a stillborn.
The Backyard boy broke the television !
Bubble wrap,lying, sun soaked on the grass!
This wasn’t to happen under my vision ,
But, Blow raspberries and it’ll all pass.
I fear change and endings .
So,
I want endings - sad .
Then, that’ll make
the whole process forgettable ,
I’m not a child anymore,so I don’t have second thoughts,
I have no thoughts, really. Hail the lord !
The Backyard boy broke the only television !
And there’s Bubble wrap,lying on the grass!
What is happening under my vision ?
Just hail the lord and it’ll all pass!
I’m tired of running.
Taking two minutes
to think through everything,
Whilst always knowing
That things will remain the same
Be it Two minute before
Or two minutes after.
So dysfunctional .
Speaking of DYSFUNCTIONAl
Let’s add the societal touch .
We fail to pretend .
We can’t even pretend to pretend .
Yet, we live in crooked harmony
Like pencil in still water .
Take the incense stick out someone ,
The smoke smells too honest in here!