I smile with my mouth closed tight
To trap deviant words inside
The preacher hisses between his fangs
The vipers tongue slays him
Sunday is the Lords day
On Monday’s I’m a compulsive liar
I pluck threadbare ends from my lips
The truth is so close
Maybe a surgeon could remove it
From the skin of my teeth
They are the barrier
I keep my walls up – except when they rot
Blacks seem weak, a push and they fall flat
But don’t bite your lip, they’re sharp
Piano lessons are on Tuesday
My week ends on Wednesday
Have you ever had a toothache?
The pliers slip and cut my gums
Blood tastes like soda now
I hear them say, drink that and your teeth’ll rot
I roll my tongue over those empty spaces
Searching for the parts of me that are missing…
Waiting to be Reborn.