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Homo Erectus Speaks Out

Submitted by Eumolpus on Mon, 2020-08-03 23:17

I get up and stumble to the coffee pot.
The first thing I say to myself is my age,
as if the disbelief can be suspended being half awake;
the full bladder, the cold feet, the gritty cheeks-
O don’t even consider the mirror,
I might stumble in and drown.

When did this begin,
this ritual of waking to an update?
Yes, I’m still seventy-one
and still not used to my skin.
Yes, I’m still hungry to feel,
because what is life if you don’t feel?
And I feel like ripping the wallpaper off,
like jumping in the trees,
like smelling the juices of fruits.

But after ritual mathematics
my mind goes to its normal home.
I start sniffing around like a dog.
I need an orgasm.

Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Geezer

Tue, 2020-08-04 07:41

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When I ask questions very much like this. WTF? Who is that in the mirror? I sympathize with your assessment of body and wonder if at 72, I know anything at all about growing old. [My mother is 93]. A very good look at the mental process of waking up and wondering; "How did I get here? This is not my fine house, this is not my beautiful wife, this is not... and the days go by... ~Geez.
.

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Gracy

Tue, 2020-08-04 16:39

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Hello Emou, yes, we all ask ourselves these questions, but you've put in deftly written verses. I like "drown in the mirror" and "ripping the wallpaper off", made me laugh. No nits, except my usual boring ones, tighten it up a little.
Enjoyed? Yep. Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

Dandini

Sat, 2020-11-28 13:00

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Great last line. Who doesn't, from time to time? But it's not always worth the effort....

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