The con men were catcalling from the mountaintops
and dropping serotonin dipped in cheap gold
that they called the color of the sun.
Underneath were we, buried deep in relics and bribes,
sitting eye-level with the sea
where walls of salt hit our eyes.
I saw God on a street corner begging for change
and drawing chalk veins on the concrete,
whispering, “Let them grow.”
There are types of us: lustful, proud--
mankind made of dilated pupils
that shrink for the sun in desks by tall windows.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
The con men were catcalling from the mountaintops
and dropping serotonin dipped in cheap gold
that they called the color of the sun.
Underneath were we, buried deep in relics and bribes,
sitting eye-level with the sea
where walls of salt hit our eyes.
I saw God on a street corner begging for change
and drawing chalk veins on the concrete,
whispering, “Let them grow.”
There are types of us: lustful, proud--
mankind made of dilated pupils
that shrink for the sun in desks by tall windows.
