The Infinite Enemy

Give me back my youth
You bastard, time
So I can feel again
The first flush of
Love unwearied
Return lost vigor
To my heavy limbs
And set afresh
The beating of
My hollow heart

In cornrow circles
The Maypole maidens
Dance widdershins
To wrest back the cup
Of youth’s eternal Spring

At snail’s pace would I
March to the beat
Of bastard time
For if the enemy is weak
It makes me weaker yet
To fight its hoary grip
At every step, I’d argue
Better to have fallen
By the wayside
Than to acquiesce
To this tyrant’s insane wish.

About Lorem Ipsum

Just some guy trying to figure out where the "on" switch is hid on the remote control—ah, forget it. Because, you know what, I'm also the kinda guy who always likes the book waaay more than the movie! View all posts by Lorem Ipsum

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