Can you feel the way I trace your bones at night?
Can you understand why the moon needs my flight?

I am a thousand miles in the future and just three years away.
Yet, I still
        Sink into the well,
        Furiously clawing at ancient walls.
        When will they crumble?
        When will the earth devour me?
When will I use my own power to overcome this prison?

Will the sun illuminate the new path to the lost ivory rhythm?
I used to be Icarus,
Now I sinfully wait for the sun to come to me.

Stumbling in the black water, reeking of blood and magnolia roots,
I lose the memory of kissing the sunlight on the soft bones of your nose.
Perhaps,
that is where the sun will stay
stuck in a memory
that melted into my sanguine rivers.

The only solution lies in joyfully understanding the watery mud,
You must,
my dear,
drink your own blood.