Unyoung-ed

Something's a-coming,
As I face the mirror's judgement,
my jawline blurs and I metamorphose into my mother,
Only, I have reshaped her lines,
Only, I have folded into my own wrinkles,
All the things I have been have found places in my flesh,
Now there's someone else in darkness of my eyes

Something's a-coming,
I don't bend in all those places,
that were warmed molten by the desire to please,
I burn from the edges in, a motley collection of unreadable words
on charred bits of paper; I'm at home in the fireplace,
Like a gash on the lip—painfully pleasurable to bite,
I chew on wounds and grudges and unmet expectations, 
Now there's someone else in the thinness of my mouth

Something's a-coming, 
Winter sways bashfully in the horizon, 
The air holds still; gathering it's cloak around it,
It smells like pandanus flowers and wood-smoke
It smells like a jubilation and melancholia all at once, 
I have forgotten the meaning of loneliness, 
My dreams are bereft of youthful yearning and hopes,
I've become too much of me, or just enough,
Now there's someone else in the stillness in my chest

Something's a-coming,
A tempest waiting to hit,
A deathly still waiting to take grip,
Steady, steady, they go my two steady legs,
Between my ribs there's nothing aflutter,
Only a trudging on of this life's drum beat,
I am ready for this—whether equinox or solstice,
Now that there's this someone else inside my head