Archive ⋙ Poetry
the luce line
oh, to be fourteen again
reckless, wild, and free
standing on the edge of the cliff in my mind
smiling wide as I stare down eternity
I pace like a tiger in his cage
wondering when will come change
when will the anhedonia go away?
when will come Solstice, and not Adelaide?
when suddenly I realize: never will come the time
because that decision's only ever been mine
my muse screams and murmurs (somehow without sound)
and I scramble to write every word down
because who knows when will shut the faucet of passion
from the one who barely grasps the concept of fashion?
you, who came down to mark the darkness severed,
please stay right by my side forever.