Smoked Out Tooth

I sand my teeth with metal emery boards,

catch dust of enamel and tin on my tongue.

 

The back of mouth bleeds congestion and

stale euphoric memory of the high. It tastes

 

of gasoline and disease. Chrome puss

floods my gums when I laugh and clinch.

 

My bones quake to stand still. I am faced

opposite of yesterday-the warm melted

 

smell of cannibalism licks my neck. I will

not turn to its truth. Relinquish trophies

 

that stab my cheeks. I will grind smooth

spit-shine stars from their blackness.

 

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