I would like to be young again so I can remember what it is like to know everything,
For the world to be as big as whatever is in front of me,
For the idea of death, failure, grief to hold as much weight for me as the articles in the Sunday paper,
I could read but what did it mean to me,
I do not know them, them is not here in my kitchen,
All that exists was there,
Inside four yellow walls and my hollow, happy brain,
All that exists was there.
