Tuesday, August 5

The straight, white teeth that peak out behind your flapping lips
Are all the inspiration you need for a hard tounge of glass
To crash against a callused mouth
And divide into trillions of microscopic peices of debris
That burrow into my flesh like groundhogs comming home-
Annoying and moderatley painful,
As they slowly dig their way through a thin sheet of muscle
And press into the marrow of my insecurities,
My slightly yellow, unaligned teeth that cower behind a practiced, stoic frown

Feagin thinks really deep thoughts @ 1:43 AM

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