If we all died before we fell old Consumed as we blush ripe What would perish with us But mold and setting mud?
Life could not be long Nor sophisticated, for All that thought never born beyond The days of cocked feathers.
Our homes the wild trees Burned or spared by our caprice Sleep on the moss a groan Summer in the morning the dawn
Tousled hair a-spring with salt And the hoary sweat of the night Eyes sharp and deep Like pools in frothing rivers unsettled.
Muscles taught in conflict not against the world But green competition, passion the reward And pleasure, in sinew pushing, grabbing, Taking what is Mine.
Our faces our identities Our bodies our manifestos Statements simple, ideas cut To have sharp edges and grate at one another.
Night full of the juicy roars Of fiery eyes consuming lovers claimed In battle, ****** conflict That mean nothing to time, nor for it.
Her smile a sugar suggestion her ******* her belly her hipsherlips Her lover at my feet. Unembarrassed, unrelenting, undefined stones in his dead eyes.
And when lines would start to settle And sense harden When certainty dies like an old dog There is no long goodbye, no sagacity gained
You cry to your last, terrified as you pass Lost in pure droplets shed from a face As its teeth grow too far while the mane retreats, And the soul is killed for it.
Cruel, to let a who live past that To watch who's spirit Wash away and see the tide return Gushing wine in your arms That's gone dull and bitter from the Autumn left Too long, too long, Lived too long.
A poem about what it would be like if we never lived past our teenage years