/lit/ - Literature

I'm italian, this is one of the first poems I write in english, hope it's not too disjointed.

Pisa

I chewed the invitation to my own meanless party
since there's no need of real ones anymore.
I never tasted a sentence in my whole lifetime,
no pulp under grey teeth.
Sometimes things come to me already chewed
inside packages with trivial fantasies: cherries,
fat suns with exaggerated smiles.
the last bolus I tried to swallow was stringy
and blue, sweetnesses out of context,
children's insicurities: I felt nothing.
I sometimes think about the chewed,
trees that scrape and hope for the sky,
although every inch towards tropospheric dolphins
corresponds to a hundred
gallows' steps into the country of worms
and of what remains of...