Five + Twenty

Title inspired by one of my favorite songs, “4 + 20,” off the record Déjà Vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. A reflection on what it feels like to be a quarter age, in all of its chaos.

Title inspired by one of my favorite songs, “4 + 20,” off the record Déjà Vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. A reflection on what it feels like to be a quarter age, in all of its chaos.

so this is the time

now I’m a quarter-age

and what do I have to show?

never a dull moment

always a question

a hazy confusion

a perpetual hustle

the breaking of an illusion

I had tried to seal my heart in early years

—a wabi-sabi sort of deal—

fragile, laced with golden lines,

refined, of museum-like appeal

but, when the hour comes for tea and treats

the surface cannot hold

ooze from the cracks like gunshot wounds

the water’s getting cold

I heard it on the radio that “love comes to everyone,”

but what about for me?

It would be with great remorse in this life

to turn around and see

that I forgot what it means to be free

yes, I was just too busy,

and too consumed by fear,

I was just counting the years,

and floating on a bed of tears


so this is the time

now I’m a quarter-age

isn’t this when we stop to grow? 

the manic stretching of the limbs,

but, it appears that’s just for show.

seems my mind expands with every blink,

it’s a constant readjustment of what I feel

a game of fallen barriers

a lowering of the shield 

now immersed in constant confusion

they say: darling, it’s just an ego dissolution

so wave goodbye to old delusion

and accept this blood transfusion

of novel quandaries with no conclusions

but perhaps that’s just what it is to be human

with this grand capacity to theorize 

swimming ‘round a fishbowl

while believing that we’re outside, 

as if we’re laying under infinite skies

we pray our legacy might crystallize

although it seems algae on the tank 

still forms our greatest enterprise

but hey, maybe we’ll get lucky

and things will get Malthusian

we’ll overshoot our source of life

and halt our evolution— 

no more questions

no more hustle

a lobotomized elusion

but, doesn’t that just sap out all the fun

of releasing self-imposed solutions?

so I let it fall into the night,

my need for all things proven

and peeling down the window,

I can sense that I’m just cruising