4th in Drop the Cliche Contest (Sponsor: Nette Onclaud)
Judged: 25th December, 2025
Illusions trip over his glance, its magnetic whisper— murky man from the moon, serenading stars. Below our reckless journey in speeding cars, blind and wild, our laughter attacking midnight. Oh, my wind-swept hair! Aren't we dapper again, moving with legs that couldn't embarrass us?
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