I miss being a child
When I had no boundaries,
And those around me had none of their own

We would drink each other in,
Our minds racing, probing,
Great sweeping limbs pressing into every corner,
Ink oozing into cracks and out of seams
And thunder peeling away layers like a bullet's exit through metal

We drank and drank,
Tipped cups of humanity
And spilled the vast consciousness of life down our chins,
Our throats, and soaking the shirts we wore,

And we learned,
Of each other
And of ourselves
And of the world.
A child's world, it now seems

I feel the press of adults.
I have not had a drink in so long
And I see this cup, one of existence and expanse,
I see it sitting so lonely in the center of my town square

People, adults, are everywhere, pushing
And forming a fountain of empty stone around it
Shuffling and averting their gaze

I feel like a sore spot,
My eyes are attached to the drink by fired harpoons
I cannot move them, I cannot move my head,
And I most certainly cannot move my body,
Where adults are streaming past me like water down a drain

Why don't they drink?
They must surely feel this feeling I feel,
Like bamboo shooting from my stomach
Like my mind rotting without the essence of life

They refuse to drink,
And becaue I am in this adult world,
I refuse to drink too