Conversations are raging in my teeth.
Enamel chips and flakes like
words I want to say.
My palate is coated by your abandonment,
a bitterness that can't be licked away.
My teeth are dueling consciences,
that bite at theoretical cheeks.
To talk to who is not listening or
to eat my cheeks instead--
to swallow indigestible garbage
or hide it beneath my tongue--
to talk to who won't hear me
or to swallow what I want--
the debate is never won.
No comments:
Post a Comment