nostalgia is a disease.
i wallow in rose tinted puddles
waiting for my body to evaporate
into the wistful cumulus clouds
where i can look down on my life from serene heights
and like what i see
i'm punch drunk in the gutter, wrinkled
still bathed in gasoline and bleach
i'm not happy now, i wasn't happy then. nothing has changed
what's happened since to make me think everything was better when i was young?
i've caught a disease living in this filth.