(2014)

Picture it: high school, twenty-fourteen.

Not many can taste it like me, and those still stuck in-between.

We recall the weight of craving age yet hating it so,

their blinding smiles, the invisible undertow.

Those formative years of trials and tribulations,

never-stopping belief, and dreams of midnight stations—

they swung us to and they threw us fro,

that time to change is like the 80’s to blow—

without a forethought of what’s next after ‘broken’,

that time clambered in to crack the world open—

a globed eggshell bumped by fate and fortune

to become unrecognizable by evolution’s torsion.

It lasted forever, it felt so long—

still searching to memorize the words of each song.

Before the days of minuscule choreographies,

we lived in a grapevine of quietly-whispered prophecies.

And now it’s memorialized and glamorized and rightfully so,

even by those who we deem too young to know;

but that’s also unfair, and we know not what they see—

a past so rich, a present so deep, and a future fit for fourteen—

so we must give them our inherited grace to rage against the machine—

and the world they’ll take over, from our projections they’ll ween.