In yellowed brightness, standing, humps a letter
M
over an automatic door,
and air conditioned scent.
The paint is as bright as the bell in my chest sounding,
When I taste its artificiality
pure and vivid.
I need not to bow
only to break
down the bits with my teeth,
as Aaron built up
with yellowed brightness
a calf,
and called it God.
M
over an automatic door,
and air conditioned scent.
The paint is as bright as the bell in my chest sounding,
When I taste its artificiality
pure and vivid.
I need not to bow
only to break
down the bits with my teeth,
as Aaron built up
with yellowed brightness
a calf,
and called it God.
1 comment:
Very interesting. Inspiration?
If I were you I'd take out the word "to" in lines 9 and 10. But it's your poem, so you decide what feels best.
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