I'm a storycaster
The one who lets
The clock
Tick
Pause
Tock
I am the one you hear-
Flee-
-when you do not see
Your sickly stench stirs my sickly soul
Taste this sugary syrup
I am the one who caresses with love
While feeding on sickly doses
Craft your world
You cannot
For long
Since
Upon wake
For us, there always will be quiet
Hard lords and quieter walls
Skies eat every angsty echo
Slip
Comforting hands tug at the blanket
Flee! Boo
Lucid mind and a soft kiss
Slop
Sorry
Clock
It is now past midnight
Will always be
As will the sweet suffering
So will the bitter ticking
A fireball
Disease and applause
Lend me your voice
My lullaby
You hear again
No more wait-
-For you-
-a perfect escapade
You will escape again.
Again
YOU ARE READING
Rhythms From a Quarter Life
PoetryI will die the very moment this poetry collection is complete, not a moment more, not a moment less. Yet, what worries me is not death but never being able to complete this poetry collection. These are the rhythms resonating from a quarter-life.
