Stuck rigid in a land of aching knees.
"Cracking legs," twas once reported, in a manner of  flirting flattery.
Now fully aware that they're contorted.
Sensation of eggshell cracking.
In ridicule of youth these joints scream, in blazing pain.
Don't hurt when I'm moving, perhaps the voice of pain is shouting out,
"For God's sake don't sit down!"
Maybe, just maybe someone will pass me a joint!
(C) LIVVI