deepundergroundpoetry.com
kintsukuroi
fallen angel,
feathers plucked,
me with a hot glue gun,
picking up all the pieces,
lining them with gold, picking
up the slack of an angry dolt,
a scissorbill too blind, too dull
to see or feel the sun residing
in his palms.
what a time to be alive!
what a chance and it's mine!
and i promise you this:
my heart will crush entire mountains beneath its boots, and part the seas like moses, and pull the moon down from its mantle in the sky,
i will rip my self asunder, strip down to subatomic particles, just so that i might reassemble as a bird, or a plane, or your own personal superman -
anything you want,
and everything you need -
whatever it takes
to get DAT ASS
back to heaven.
feathers plucked,
me with a hot glue gun,
picking up all the pieces,
lining them with gold, picking
up the slack of an angry dolt,
a scissorbill too blind, too dull
to see or feel the sun residing
in his palms.
what a time to be alive!
what a chance and it's mine!
and i promise you this:
my heart will crush entire mountains beneath its boots, and part the seas like moses, and pull the moon down from its mantle in the sky,
i will rip my self asunder, strip down to subatomic particles, just so that i might reassemble as a bird, or a plane, or your own personal superman -
anything you want,
and everything you need -
whatever it takes
to get DAT ASS
back to heaven.
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