I long to be an old woman
Fingers stricken by wrinkles and skin memory of past love
I want to gaze longingly into the Miamian sunset and ponder on missed chances
I want to make cheesecake a long forgotten friend i venture back to with fondness every fortnight or so
I want to fall into trivialities like bingo or muffin making
To die beach side and ancient so that blood memory awakens
And with my last breath ecstasy implodes and i become the last generation again
The clock isn't real
Its digits are manmade
And with it comes functionality like we are predestined to coup against
I will be your old lady
And you will be that soft, young ear that my razor blade lined drivel will fall against