Adrian Borda
My heart cartwheels across the page
I am always young when I write
Always alive but more importantly free
Without ink the eclipse would be infinite
The death state whence I refuse to intimate
Even a fraction of the emotions raging within
Would entice me irrevocably to silence
My identity resides in a plastic barrel
Slimmer than the antenna that guides
My teeth are brittle as peppermint
I stroke the soles of my shoes
Against the sidewalk while biting my lip
But the trajectory is always reversed
I haven’t got it, that spark that makes a man
Something so much greater than what he is
I cannot persuade even in the ecstasy of truth
Someone must be wrong to preserve the status
The joker shuffled unintentionally into
A caste for which he alone does not fit
mindlovemisery 