Marco Di Caprio

Lithium lingers, cold within the veins,
while nicotine ascends through breath and thought;
a tempered stillness settles in the blood,
yet stirs beneath a restless undertow.

A longing grows for life beyond this haze,
to stain illusion bright with childhood hues,
as though those colors, buried deep in time,
might rise again and flood the dimming world.

But now the soul is cleft along its core;
no single current holds its broken stream.
Great joy ascends, then plunges into night;
hope lifts its voice, then yields to silent weight.