i'm standing, semi-drunk before the mirror
washing my teeth with
a pea-sized dollop of toothpaste -
and i'm meßmerißed...
                   it's hard to tell when blonde hair
ends, and when the grey hair begins...
   but i'm standing there, and it's just
poking me in the eye with a wet thumb...
  i can't dismiss it...
                  it's glaring right back at me...
my first grey hair...
                and it's not in my hair,
but in my beard...
                                  finally!
       i've wizened!
                                 the one grey hair and
it's not on my head, but on my cheek...
              well: if you're semi-drunk it really does
become spectacular...
                      grey hair...
                                            is that like
trying to remember the first time you had an *******
or something?
                            in all honesty i don't know what
to make of being a mortal creature...
          everything these days is to turtle-paced
that i'm wondering: will 90 even matter?
           i can give up aged 35...
                  it won't matter... so many more years
having no point in prescribing a point via
watching television...
                         can i go back to the era of prometheus?
no? *******.
                  when thomas jefferson stole zeus'
   lightning rod and made the lightbulb it was certain:
insomnia would turn out in a rampant horde
  of people: once the fire warmed, now
the lightning is pulverising our eyes into being
constant awake... michael faraday though...
           the godfather...
                               today was just that:
peter pan woke up and noticed a grey hair in
his beard and thought: finally!
                the never land! i'm being saved from
the concept of forever land!