by Andrea Traietti on September 27, 2018
Poetry
by Sam Ward ’21
each sentiment rises and falls as if the moon inspires
but these are brain waves
living, breathing, decaying
eternal in space, ethereal in time
a reprieve from continuity
complacent thoughts comatose
it’s perfection or insanity
and these thoughts will drive you mad
so spill black and blue blood spelling out spirit
spell with each the hand that guides
with each the symbols that hide
with each a desire that burns where your cognition resides
You are not without weakness
these whirling wrinkles whistle by your ears
but you won’t be here unless you look in the mirror ’cause
you are not without weakness
these words will not write themselves
the ghost writer who keeps you up at night
will not revel in the respite but rather
atone the anxiety and administer the anguish
find your peace between the margins
your mind will condone the grip you have on the bic pen
the ink bleeds to your wits’ ends.