Architectural Terrors

The heat has stayed up late like my mobile phone's battery on an odd day. 
My driver's toy sickens as it zoom past glories, beggars,
Lovers; ochre eyes, faces pale orange, awake years under the arms of treasuries of exotic ornaments,
Smile at us as we pass by.
They hug their ragged neighbors of dirt,
Against a world lumped with weird mockery,
Where aching radios play strange love songs,
And great architectural theories unease.

We get down.
In the distance,
A million acre lawn of marble molecules,
Gleams rainbows to the eyes.
It's exasperating; stunning beauty that drives you insane,
Unfortunately not transcendent enough to drown me in celluloid glory.
Every moment seems to shiver near some end,
Where gifts are paralleled by screechings that seem will tear your skin apart,
Or roaring machines that will crush you in your silent moments.
I transverse back to liquid sleep until I'm back at home.

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