What drew me to this poem was the fact that the whole poem was defamiliarized. I wanted to take a stab at it myself and this is what resulted...
The eyes and mouth on walls
are not for fingers.
If you insert, jolts shake the body,
as though lightning sliced you in half.
The blue-yellow of the orange colored
cone invites touch, but take
caution for licking pain and smells of deceit
waft with the beautiful purple-pink of sweet peas.
In schools, adults unite on green boards with
cylanders of dust and no sound occurs,
but when some minerature adult
writes with fingers, high pitched pierces of pain
sprint through the brain.
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