Sage Clark '23


I smell burning…


My mind

It turns so quickly

Scraps of recollection rub together

Fast enough to ignite


May it burn soon

So that I can be at rest

Able to shut my eyes


The other pairs leering back

Spitting their incoherent bitterness


They enjoy the taunt

And so I shrink deeper down

Reverting to

Nothing more

Than a mound of melted wax

A black, charred wick


Do not act lightly

With impunity


Do not perceive with grating scrutiny

Heed it with a grain of salt

My words are not for you


Strike a match

Against the coarseness

There’s nothing left to gratify

or prove

Take the internal monolog and words

While they can still sear a hole

Through your pocket