there's someone in my head – but it's not me

greying out all

past experiences, all that’s been marked

as spam within the day by day collage

I smile unwillingly, holding the arm of the

imaginary purple maiden;

somewhere inside, torn up and ripped apart

lies the image of the one I used to be, long-haired

and somewhat bearded, colored attire blended in the crowds;

I cannot seem to remember much of the old days

I cannot seem to recall any feelings;

once – we shared love and cigarettes

once – you wore my green T-shirt

once – I was young and free, in a world of my own;

the seven years of lust seem further away every minute,

the seven years of lust seem more and more like a game,

played blissfully by the side of that statue,

by youngsters with no fear at heart.

I miss the old days; I’ve got to grey them out!