Taste Of Symbolism Poem by C.D. Xiang

Taste Of Symbolism



Sauntering through a smoggy sea
scrubby sand sticks to my sweaty skin in salt.

A raving blast of sultry wind
suffocates my dusty countenace
and stuffs my soaking eyes with soil.

And I snort.

My dry tongue strangles in a ruby mouth
and I swallow the crumbled bits of a cracked palate.

So I collapse.

My nose is glued
with the smelling stench
of a foul-faced earth.

I behold.

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