A taste. A flavour.
A passing glint,
The pleasure, the desperation,
You appoint the giver of youth.
You need, the delight,
Its momentary flight,
Over to soon.
Nirvana in taste, marvellous trice,
The giggles ripple, plentiful,
Too hungry, you consume.
The cracklings of bones,
Its ambiguity is its true shape-
Held, but never in place,
It desires. It wants.
To be moved, with licks, of willed freedom.
It rolls to its inevitable end.
Temporality is true clarity.
Hysteria and folly, in the summers haze,
The winter’s pleasure and a spring treat,
It moves quickly,
I forget my place, as ice cream rolls down my fingers and I lick it away.
Art work by @lumchen