I am
simultaneously
old and young -
the hard lines
that divide
youth from age
have vanished,
leaving opposing
concepts
to crash head on.
Idealism
battles with
sensibility,
muscles fight with
loose skin.
Torn calendar pages
litter the floor
of memory,
scattering
wild-west days
rich with lost places
and faces,
into a
confused stream
that drips as
clock-ticks into
forgetfulness.
I struggle to
grasp
onto something
indefinable
that is slipping away,
unwillingly freed from
the trappings of youth.
The hazy signposts
to another day
of impracticality
and recklessness
flies by in a blur,
and ever-so-slowly
the hints of
who I am,
vanishes
into something else
I'm becoming.