i look in the mirror
and feel old–
outdated
faded.

i am looking through the lens of fatigue,
a tired body is ill at ease,
not always accurately does its mind perceive.

pulchritude has never been my currency,
the first thing most people see in me-
that which lent validity.

living in a world that places so much value
on physical appearance,
i mastered the art of dis-appearance–
learning to hide deep inside;
shrink from severe lack of confidence;
stuff the pain with food
in lieu of alcohol or cocaine.

now, I mature,
a process treated with great contempt,
as if it were manure.

the gift of getting older
is that One gets bolder!
You tend to give
less of a fuck
to the ego
and the others
who think you just plain suck.
Ain’t nobody got the time
for that drama and fuss.