Beauty By Age

And what happens if they find me beside a fire in the open darkness, is it a sin not to write beneath the light of electricity? Shall I be blamed to my depth to find enlightenment from lying on the God made sand and the warm rocks to rest my head? Who can make such a judgment, if one is full of such enlightenments, fill my glass to the brim with the finest of Cognac and cheers to the world for having me in the first place.
Not sure if I will sleep in this bed as I'm certain I could hear it move when I took my eye off it for only a brief interlude. The bed, it will swallow my maps, my plans, my everything. Maybe I should set fire to it; the bed and the green and red bed cover crawling with clients past, all who turn an eye to the fright.I can see now only from one eye and can hear the neighbours fucking in the bed beyond the wall, where they lay naked and stroking at 60 plus years. What a turn on, to think of getting it on with wrinkled skin and a boner.
If I drink another, chances are I will be thrown to the lions beneath their moans that make me hard. And now he's done and I can hear the toilet paper roll. It sounds as if she needs a little more. They talk and she consoles him, all while touching herself to finish.
I will meet them tomorrow on the trail of lust. I plant the seed that will see us down the same walk way to the accent ruins, a place to fall back in time, a place to make her feel young again.