Poetry · Writing

Liminal Space

I exist in the threshold.

Waving back and forth like a swing on a peaceful night before a crescent moon.

Flashing forward and pulling my face back before the burns sink in.

The icy catacombs to the rear only chase the path closer to death.

I exist in the threshold

by choice.

The icy nightmares push me forward to flames of war

so I’ll stay in limbo.

The paradise, the cascade

will shortly follow.

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