I am building city in my cup
{agglomeration} I am building a city in my cup It’s pasted like a chapped moth, On the wall, beside my closet. It is a bright crimson popsicle stain on a white laywork. It is either soundproof or mute, I don’t how to solidify sound into words, Or words into sound. Because you see, Little by little, Everything becomes too large, To be measured in inches, feets, metres or even miles. It did. Of how a monstrous city, little by little, Graffiti by Graffiti, Agglomerated into a metropolitan. Of how a monstrous city, ballad by ballad, Story by story, Sorted out to be a roadside tavern, Where poets are drunkards. And drunkards become poets overnight. It is an asylum of my dreams. It turns neon every night. Not like stars or the moon. But like how when, The sun drank gallons of chardonnay, And forgot to close his eyes, Before going to sleep. It is a reminder, That things don’t last long, That your mom warns to tear it. That your dads keeps an eye, if it isn’t a poster of a naked girl, Of how
