My inner child used to pay me visits
My old soul at times:
Youthful; vibrant
Dancing under the sun
Steadily to the rising moon and on

Curiosity used to travel the highways of my veins
Now in its place enlightenment yet,
Red blood cells of malcontent
White blood cells of broken dreams

I used to sprint fiercely through vacant lots
Chasing imagined villains of unspeakable evils
With a burning drive in my eyes; heroic
Now these peepers are but deep tidal pools,
Murky and evaporating quickly

I’m passive and my white flag
…is always perched at full height for all the world to take notice

I’m tired
At 23, it’s hard to “let go”
The milk of this life has been consumed
And filled quickly with a mild belly ache,
I’m just tired

The sands of time
Have sifted unrelenting
Through these callused boney fingers
And I’m waiting premature for the “Gentleman Caller”

My mind's eye lids weary and batting
I anticipate eternal darkness not far

I don’t like being the marathon runner losing by default
He sprinted himself manically into fainting
(With 5 miles left to go)
But I just can’t take on more spite, there’s no more room in the inn you crazy teens
It weighs too heavily on these brittle bones

Am I a “bargain” light bulb burning out the next day,
Or a stick of TNT, leaving my noticeable mark on earth in a momentary flash?

Either way, I am weary beyond my years
Beaten into submission in short time
I’m letting go of the rope that dangles me over the world below
Hoping someone in the waking realm will break my fall
Someone running through vacant lots catching fallin villains; heroic

07/22/2011

Posted on 07/22/2011
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Wilson