门一道道关闭这一天拒绝以任何方式返回,我们拒绝了自己,记忆像玻璃胶那些片段纷纷坠落像菜市场上的烂菜叶子被穿橘皮的人收走都市的哮喘病犯了浑浊的气流压迫着街道,树丛后边的彩灯,给植物涂上俗气的暧昧人行道上落了不少落叶车轮飞过时我听到了断裂的声音城郊的暮色还没发酵借着天边的微光,我看见巨大的灰白蘑菇那是摘棉花归来的母亲背的大包袱赶上时,它却变成一辆三轮车收破烂的,夜气很凉了我眼里枯萎的花却突然盛开 The door closed the day Refusing to return in any way, we rejected ourselves, remembering pieces of glass glue that had fallen like rotten vegetables on the vegetable market Leaves of orange-skinned people Getting asthma out of the city Turbid air flow Oppression of the streets, the lights behind the trees, the ambiguous plants pastel cheeks falling a lot of deciduous leaves when the wheels flew over I heard the sound of rupture Suburban twilight not fermented By the glimmer of the sky, I saw a huge Gray mushrooms that pick the big burden of the cotton back mother to catch up, it turned into a tricycle torn, the night sky is cool, the eyes of withered flowers are suddenly in full bloom