Growing old

It has been four years
since I slung my old
biker jacket in the wheelie bin

It was almost as old
as some of the students
that I was mixing with

I kind of miss that
old jacket, with holes
in the pockets
and bits of god knows what

I took the patch off
and gave it to an ex
with my leather waistcoat
last I ever saw of it

my new life is not so bad
but I sure do miss
that jacket, my armour

now I am wearing lust
as a sleeve
and unprotected

its bleeding rough
without the
leather to discuss my
otherwise natural rejection

now I have nothing
to reflect my
own lust inflections


2 thoughts on “Growing old”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s