in Nostalgia

We were so young and beautiful. Baby fat, outward shine to my skin. Belies my suicidal sadness and madness. Inexperienced. Sang of being old, passage of time, Imagining it quick. A rocking chair at age of 27, Looking into a mirror, age 16, Infinity seemed possible, though melancholic. Some of my best mates dead, Victims of broken hearts, Inebriation. I’m sad looking back in dust, Looking at the Earth perversely feeding upon itself to sustain the mass of plebeians. All physical knowledge, []