The Melancholy Age

A tell tale sign
is when your pie in the sky
is but a cloud
in your all too familiar pipe dream.

You get a life of your own
pockets filled with loans
a bitter weight in your head
a heart filled with dread.

Plead for your life to the opaque stair
that holds no care for you or your meagre desires.

Just a quick look back to the days when every face had a name
and you were never truly alone.

To skip through weightless desires
letting yourself dream for far too long.

Stepping from stone to stone
arms outstretched for balance over the cold waters of destiny
lapping playfully at your feet.

Mud through your toes
Xs and Os
the heat of the air
a life with no care.

A candied melody
of which only time will tell
just how long we may truly dwell
in this immortal spell.

The livid paradise of forced smoke and fancy.

To be caught within ourselves
a bubbly boggy delusion
just waiting for the inevitable
nightmare intrusion.