That Which is Easier Said than Done

My larynx exhales chocolate that blots the future.

You could be this whole aluminum world, I say,

with melting palms that could cook a god like poultry.

An artificial shine in divine eyes attracts the crows,

kills them as they swallow trash. You could glow, I say,

tributes erected that scream in flapping tongues

like candy wrappers; you could grow, I say,

and pluck the universe as your roost.

 

My throat coughs jasmine incense. We die explaining

to our deities that jasmines could represent hope

in cultures not our own. I could grow myself,

I say, but others will have to explore jasmines

in my place, in meanings not my own.

I speak chocolate where others forget the roasted

lust for food. The taste that the future is splotched.

Advertisements

Published by

Jenna

Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s