You may detect a Chronicles of Narnia reference just because I’m rereading the series 😉 Hopefully the poem isn’t too bizarre that your interpretation of it is far from my intentions. What do you think it means?
Breathing in the smoke
that does not fill my lungs,
but fills my hammering heart
allows me to cough up the mucus
Perhaps I should have listened
for my hearing was perfectly crystal
and my comprehensive skills were at their peak,
but my judgement unhinged itself from my doorway
and slowly crept down the sloppy stairs I built.
Rain falls like fake diamonds, each drop a pointy jab,
and I must shield my eyes from admiring them
for I am not supposed to.
It is a sin to admire cheap and manmade beauty,
for it is not beauty at all.
God gently rested his hand on the lion that breathed
in the fresh and sleepy air that arose from the trees
and its eyes rested on the real beauty fashioned
by gentle hands that once held me.
I let a tear slowly crawl down my face.
The loud noise that crashed through the sleepy air
blows up like confetti, to where you cannot see a thing
but the distorted colors before you.
Do not let those images lure you in.
Crystallize a pure heart, my dear.