miercuri, 14 august 2013

Blue tongue

my tongue tastes blue
when the sheets are gathered beneath me
like an anatomical origami
of a flawed design

my tongue tastes cerulean
when my arms hiss and moan
beneath the weight of so many
material idols

my tongue tastes teal
when the hours grow vapidly long
so that reality bursts out
from a framed screen

my tongue tastes sapphirine
when the arches of this church
scream in a silent flicker
of a chorus of candles
for me to run out

my tongue tastes blue
when my burning brain
loses all hope
of personal redemption

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