there must be some what outta here…, by Darius Molark

I am not a silent poet

there will be nobody waiting inside
so you don’t have to worry about stuff
just remove your clothes, feel good, just abide
to the shower like it will clean you up
but marcel didn’t trust any of this
how was this women and men children clique
could walk in and then out in a clean wash bliss?
no, he wasn’t having any of it
he pushed the guard down, but hey, it was too late
showers were pouring, people were coughing
marcel’s eyes were beginning to dilate
was there a pillar to make this offering?
god came down, he didn’t do anything
the mist proved bile, marcel could not refrain

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