Plasma: Ancient Limbs

Sometimes shiny surfaces riddle my faltered vision with reflections of a once blissful youth

For in my peripheral I will see this hunched back posture replaced with the strong risen chest of a prizefighter

My mind rejects the hindrance of time so strenuously passed

It refuses to slow and relish in comforts bound to stories of past triumphs

These thoughts still move at the speed of an incredibly energetic youthful man

One that is the epitome of perseverance

The upper echelon of hero

I see infinite possibilities

I am invincible

But then

the mirage fades

Every time

it always fades

Like ripples in a lake

When the vicious waters still ever so lifelessly

A withered old broken man is then transposed

My desaturated skin

once a lush paradise of ever regenerating life

now sags a barren discoloured wasteland

My scalp laden with brittle deadened fields

the color of concrete

My pores corroded

littered with lifeless blackened extrutions that roll over my cheekbones like tumble weeds across scorched deserts

These eyes have turned into a lost silver universe of forgotten hopes and dreams


My mind is a young man

forever imprisoned in this rigid cell of an old body

Yet in this moment I will not yet cease to exist

To the ends I will search restlessly for adventure

I shall have my final reign

My last bout of glory

I will fight relentlessly

For triumph is inevitable

Because especially in death I am victorious

and my name will live within the stars until the end of time.

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