thinking that i am getting old

i wake up from afternoon nap

again a cold lonely evening

and i pretend that i have cold

(thats what i do when i miss love so much)

and instead of my bike

i take a walk beneath those haunted neon lights

of this two year old township

and i feel i am getting old

and what i feel are all bombastic lines in my head

oh...to reconcile with my follies and follies of friends

i smile

the usual memories , losses and things left undone

the glories that i passed hiding

the urges that i denied

history seems like some criminal files

nothing inspires .......

random lines come to mind

"full of cunning passages and contrived corridors"

"the animals i had trapped have all become my pets"

i almost could disappear ..in this twilight air

this long lonely road

the evening engulfing me like a satin sheet

and i know this is not all

this is not all

(with due respect to Eliot and Cobain )