I'm too young to feel true nostalgia--
like new wine;
bitter without depth
and stinging blood-bright body.
And I am too old to be so new--
haven't I been paying attention?
There's a suffering world out there;
and billions of victims
bleeding life from life's sweet wounds.
Mind cannot hold all it thinks it can hold:
the great joke of the mind.
The cask influences the aging,
"For the love of God, Montressor!"
And another empty glass
I pass,
I pass.
I'm too young to feel this way
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