juvenilia

know that they’ll love you for the work you do when you’re

young,

that they will embrace the anger, the passion, the want to change the world---

know that they will circle round you like they do

when there is a fight in the public square,

watching the two beat each other senseless, if even to

death &

then they’ll go about their merry way---

because a life of work means absolutely nothing until you are

dead &

to those that get recognized at all for doing anything anymore

come the glitz & the glam of

momentary success,

but the rotting comes quick &

like a mole trying to get out of a dog’s concave water dish

with feet scampering up the sides,

blinded to the reality of its coming

demise,

the fall is inevitable---

here today & gone tomorrow,

as a leper deteriorating away on an island

far off from the spotlight that started it all.