I’ll just sit here and smoke while I savor this bowl
Of the crystalized ethereal soul I stole..
Because for a moment I forget about life as whole.
Easier to see things a little less mono-toned 
But I fail to notice
The clock arrows starts to spin faster— 
All living under a blanket of eiderdown pastures
—Til the hand circles at a speed about tenfold faster.

I look away from the clock for a split second and 
Realize to my dismay the best days 
Have flown so far away from me.
Tears run down my face as I take a backseat 
To the fiery display of my
Favorite and most cherished memories 
Burning away.

.
And I look down at my hands to see with 
Great horror—I lost track of time and  
 Grown so very old.
I watch on as my once freshly nimble
Body struggles to get out of bed … 
I sit in front of the mirror and almost 
Throw up as I see my now sagging skin; 
shriveled, wrinkled,
Covered in potholes and scars of sin.

I have laughed, I have cried,  experienced, and lied
And I even had the pleasure 
To say I lived a long time ago, by the seaside.
But as I grow old I am watching this house shaped pit
I grew up in slow dance with the fire alit.
This is hurts more than
Then a noose on my neck like a tourniquet.

But I know I'm just a teenage girl who needs a smoke
With an overworked heart running on 
A couple lines of coke.
But can you just tell me this one time that
This is only a fear? Can I just please stay young
And safe right here?
Because when I've grown weak and filled with ire
I don't want to look back at this poem and think,
"It's worse than I conspired."

Now old and tired, I will devote the rest of my life 
To trying to sleep away the days year-round.
I lay wrapped in a fleece blanket, and howl like a basset hound.
I struggle to think of my life as a whole around
For the thought shakes me as I know by the law of life i'm bound…
To my mortality and philosophies that really
Have no meaning as not even Marcus Aurelius' found
An escape from his bones lying stagnant;
Dead in the ground.

But still I try to listen everyday
To hear morning birds chirp
“Your time is limited, don't waste away”.
And they never speak of my once red hot potential
Now cooled down to a chunk of metallic gray.
So I choose to ignore and take this time to pray
As practice for when
The Reapers song starts to play…
Lou Reeds, ‘Perfect Day’