Sometimes I get nostalgia attacks
Like asthma attacks
But worse
Because I have no inhaler for this
It contracts and expands my lungs into painful convulsions
Casualties of breath as I reminisce of the times before
Before I knew of the horrors of April 15th
Precedent to when my eyes were exposed
Exposed to this macrocosm of bigotry
Where you are hated for love
And loved for hate
I have no inhaler for this
My nostalgia attacks admonish my serene childhood
In wake of when dreams met no restrictions
When scholars were unconstrained by finance
When growing old meant wine and independence
I have no inhaler for this
For the ones who might cringe at my marriage
Because a sin is a sin is a sin
For the restrictions of my dreams
Because money means nothing until it means everything
I have no inhaler for this
