How on Earth?

How in God’s name did I get to be seventy five?It’s surely not long since I wasThrown out of ‘The Junction’ for beingAn under-age drinker –Now I’m just a third-rate thinkerCrawling towards the dark unknown.How in God’s name did I get so old?

It crept up on me like a murdering catThis sodding age-thing.I tried to hide in the long grassOf activity,But somehow it found me out.

Lord, but its vicious and plays with you:Tearing and wearing your guts outOn the soft moving earth,Teasing you at first before it tortures you.Run, hide, it seems to say,I’m lazy, I don’t really want your skull,Not you, but its cruel heart is fullOf longing for your only life –The wind whispers to you thatFreedom’s nothing but a sick jokeAnd the swine sinks its claws slowly.

But anyway, I’ll fight because I have to,Like Custer, I suppose.Man is a useless passion,I agree – but there it is.