Like Teeth

The teeth are screaming

Hanging off the roof of the mouth of the sky, while falling

Trying to wake up from the nightmare

Still barely holding within

But out of their head

The Headless

Rotten to their nerve

Filled with Insensitivity

The cost of a gold tooth

A little hard work and a rusted silver plier, some string pulling, but sometimes you get a door slammed right out your face, not everybody is buying it

That wet mineral smile, that you prob dug up on the side of the road

But it was either that, or stay indentured. Biting down on the mouth piece, never conforming to the mold. And with barely any teeth left to bite off what some other gum-sucker didn’t spit out. Moving for the rest that I dream of, and works me every night, into the nearest bed, or wherever we can

A tooth under the pillow, isn’t worth a dollar. And with your junkyard canines you’re always thinking about the next meal, anemic with that rust in your blood, never satisfying a dream submerged in a well of a million pennies added up- to nothing

It might even be too late to give yourself the shot. Something to put you down. Too high on life and the remnant dust of Angels who kissed the Sun. Engine lines pumping the sugary sweet water ice, of the golden apple not far from the garden roots, the coil of a snake whisperer, letting life’s breath escape her mouth, and into your blowhole, scent of lilac and weed, that it’s okay to sleep- and you can be anything. Memory of letting go of your strings, blow of daisies, the swelling, balloons floating like out of your hands, rising up but still staining the close and distant sky that reflects off the hole’s puddle, red, and bone white, forever above where her and your heart seems to be. You were going up and down and around and over the core, passed and over- the jagged rocks, and sea monster stalagmites lockjaw, there you might see a mirror in the back of the mouth’s creek, seeping from under the cast of a cauterizing rust bucket of a steam ship where lies the world’s deepest fill of the burning coals of passion, and the center of the heavy and crushing meeting of tongues and force, drawing us together till do us part where I hoped to give you a diamond.

Well into our term

Hanging onto the stitched net of a sky dream by a thread, don’t close it up anymore, don’t pull me down

In the belly where many a dreams grow, and rot, and far fall from the tree, hanging down here by my rope, waiting to be cut or waiting to be delivered

Left at heavens door steps

Accordions flapping freedoms, breathing in and out of the hard shell abdomen, whizzing out from where dreams begin, and end caught on the nectar sheets.