juvenilia

know that they’ll love you for the work you do when you’re
young,
that they will embrace the anger, the passion, the want to change the world---
know that they will circle round you like they do
when there is a fight in the public square,
watching the two beat each other senseless, if even to
death &
then they’ll go about their merry way---
because a life of work means absolutely nothing until you are
dead &
to those that get recognized at all for doing anything anymore
come the glitz & the glam of
momentary success,
but the rotting comes quick &
like a mole trying to get out of a dog’s concave water dish
with feet scampering up the sides,
blinded to the reality of its coming
demise,
the fall is inevitable---
here today & gone tomorrow,
as a leper deteriorating away on an island
far off from the spotlight that started it all.