An accusation of tattletelling

The boy dawdles, and speaks out the side of his mouth.
No consequence in being young. He still thinks,
LSD rolling in his brain, he constructs all that is
from having built it with his senses. In the old days,
a man was old at twenty-five, and never lonesome.
In the body, not a fiction or sliver of having seen
what has dealt with the singleness of having been,
a man was old at toddlerhood and his joys grew older.

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~ by Jeremy on June 25, 2012.

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