Gritting teeth


I said things, meant things,

That I still do mean.

Words I spat onto paper

Printed on my mirror.

You hurt me so I meant mean things

That I still mean; it stings.

I need a cleansing.

I wrote things, did things,

That destroyed me.

This venom I spit so easily,

It had to be drained,

It had to be scrubbed,

Off my running mouth.

So I went to the bathroom

And did all that I could

To get it out my putrid wound.

I grabbed my toothbrush,

My scavenge tool,

And I scrapped my gums,

My dirty tongue,

Until that gaping hole

Was filled with blood.

And there was so much that

I couldn’t help but

Swallow it all.

I gulped it down!

It left my mouth,

I feel it now,

Running freely

Through my venal veins…

And I sit here, in the dark,

Waiting for it to reach my heart,

Where it’ll perhaps light up a spark.


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