This man I am

This man I am.
This child ever to learn.
Destined to become senile.
This skin I´m in.
This trial.
These days of seeking life.
Sweeping back lust with the broom of my...
conscience.
Sweeping it into big piles and choking on the dust of it all.
Until dreams become clouded with fantasy.
My eyes search streets and stations for the perfect example.
All illusions remind me...
I´m just a child.
My days are cute mistakes.
My decline´s a real xmas trainset my grandfather gave me.
How lost Am I?
As the fancy frolic with dates and spas
and fashionably late in expensive cars.
How did they know what to do?
This man I am, mediocrity laughing at himself