I am young but old
Not chasing the singing dragon out into the night
Dumping the dragging lull of liquor into my being
Like it will fill the cracks in my psyche
Thwart the emerging of my being like some slick spector in the recess of my mind
Gobbling up my intellect one atom at a time

Relevant only to the tantilzing beat of the bass
The ghetto melody making me elated to the fact that
A white hick hippy want-to-be can never be a ****
I am young
With the knowledge that time is in my favor
Wild wanton ways of youth touch my limbs with excitement
Too much drugs and drunkin dancing in the streets of small time city lights

Where I float on the blissful bubbling blunders of slurred words
And harmless touching that we all know means more than the numbing
Fuzzy fingers of inhibitors want us to believe
I am young

But I grow old
With the acheing feel of gritty mornings
Class time drool-drolling onward towards the final accumulation
Of my efforts
How the liberation of my mind feels fresh and shiney
But at once I feel a regress into old thoughts old beliefs and the worn out mentality of those older
I am old

In that my soul longs for the love that it is denied
Beaten down by the distance that holds it hostage
My tendancy to find rust and petinal signs of age beautiful
Long talks with my mother give me joy
I am old
In that I taste the test of time and see wonder in the generations past
Hoping for the sweet lull of a good nights sleep

Feeling and emoting a progressive approach to a dieing dicotomy
Loving
  Hating
   Saddended by things that will never change
I am growing receeding and more importantly changing
Looking to renew the implications of the word normal
But above all the old
The young, fresh and vibrant
I will forever more be
And always be me.