xxiv.

the light
of my spine flickers;
I wonder,
what year
is it?

to feel
the constant tug
of awareness
is invigorating,
morbidly sublime.

nirvana,
a sixty-four-sided jest,
tumbling over
the infinite board—
each roll, a repetition.

who clings
to whom?
bitterness reverberates
in candied caresses,
dissolving into desire.

in unreal moments
pages penned,
thin as breath,
bound across the skin;
I am illusory.

/lex

…

if you’ve found delight in these poems,

please consider supporting the site.

follow here for updates