i'm writing you 'cos i'm old or at least that's what i've been told by moral compasses that always point west. i feel dismembered by the train, the bullet train that is my brain. "you are an old soul, you're an old soul". at least, that's what i'm told.
what an outrageous thing that i'm trapped in this weak body! my very physical body has entrapped me.
because when you're young you have time to commit all the crimes--the ones you never told him when the sheets were lined. because when you're young you will cry, and you will never know why. and even though that's kinda fucked up, you have to promise not to die or try to die.
i've met many men with parkinson's disease, but only one gave me a shaky strip-tease and this one he told me, he told me not to "never, ever grow old". he told me not to "never, ever grow old or your skin would turn to mold." he either said mold or gold. i can't remember what he said my skin would look like when i turned old.