I came upon these challenging few words this morning via Deep Down at Godoggocafe and whilst trying to get my head around the concept of what Dad’s sins might actually taste like I borrowed a few words from it (and stole some likewise, unashamedly, from Shakespeare) and penned something which seems to be about my constant obsession with old age.
Silent exit
Forced retreat
From public life
Out on the street
No train to catch
No bag to pack
Baby, I ain’t
Welcome back
Fading light
A cold descent
A winter of my
Discontent
So light the fires
Chill the beers
Down in the basement
Of my fears
Richmond Road 
powerful … the alternative to ageing is far worse, but you’re ageing disgracefully which is the way to go!
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How very proud it makes me feel to be looked upon as disgraceful. In truth I started yearning for the past from about age 12. I may have peaked a little early.
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too much information pops …
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I am not a fan of aging. I dislike it quite a bit. I’m always dreaming about finding a time machine…
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I think that if I had a time machine it would take me back to where I would find myself deep in nostalgia. I think I was born with a sense of longing for the womb.
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I’d like to return to the age of 5 or 6… and maybe stay there.
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