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gigi-tijiPoems
this wouldn't be the first time someone's said that you can't put a knife through the preacher, even when he's not practicing what he's preaching. he's a delicate flower, he's just facing the sun and praying for photosynthesis Preacher's got a sunburn, he's a silly dude, sittin' in the field in the blistering heat bright bidden barley comes sicken roasted now, like a frostbitten politician lectures a sandy hook victim, telling his soft couch he just won't have it anymore. who's the prophet today, anyway? black. all I see — is black, and a glow - maybe some tessellated patterns over screenlit skinforms, writing like they think they know what they're doing I love what they've done to me but I hate what I've done for them I want to curl 'em like I'm squeezing a lemon I want to weave a web of thunder with my skeleton Bend me like an antenna to get reception I'll swing my hips to your pulse's rumpus tickle my neurons with your featherduster delusions sometimes I stare at screens because the flow of photons over my pupils form rivers over my retinas that sound a thousand frames per second softer than tears.
0
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
through the preacher
this wouldn't be the first time someone's said that you can't put a knife through the preacher, even when he's not practicing what he's preaching. he's a delicate flower, he's just facing the sun and praying for photosynthesis Preacher's got a sunburn, he's a silly dude, sittin' in the field in the blistering heat bright bidden barley comes sicken roasted now, like a frostbitten politician lectures a sandy hook victim, telling his soft couch he just won't have it anymore. who's the prophet today, anyway? black. all I see — is black, and a glow - maybe some tessellated patterns over screenlit skinforms, writing like they think they know what they're doing I love what they've done to me but I hate what I've done for them I want to curl 'em like I'm squeezing a lemon I want to weave a web of thunder with my skeleton Bend me like an antenna to get reception I'll swing my hips to your pulse's rumpus tickle my neurons with your featherduster delusions sometimes I stare at screens because the flow of photons over my pupils form rivers over my retinas that sound a thousand frames per second softer than tears.
gigi-tiji
Written by
gigi-tiji
Panamanian
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
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