I brush my teeth all the time,
But there are days when negligence prevails,
And I can feel it with my tounge,
Something growing,
In between and on my calcium.

It isn't pleasant but I know not a more interesting development,
For I can feel something, first soft, then rigid forming in one of my most intimate places.
And a coral reef grows, in my mouth of all spaces.

Not pink, blue, or any other hue.
I know not what to do,
My mom describes it as "hairy teeth" but I know better,
If I held a fish in my mouth now he would have the warmest of welcomes,
Into my mouth he would feel at home,
A tropical retreat, eggshell white,
My new fish would try and spend the night.

If all these things continued I'm afraid I would lose my job, and my life.
To preserve my fish in his temperate reef, my mouth would never again open, I wouldn't eat, drink, or swallow again,
All this for my little fishy friend.

I would name him Bubbles,
And he would tickle my jaw with his hubby breath.
He would sleep beneath my tounge and wake me with little fishy kisses every sunrise for the rest of our lives no matter how brief-
But this beautiful relationship would end when we grow more and more hungry and our thirst teases us in this reef,
I can only hold so much salt water in between my cheeks,
Surely not enough to last mare's two weeks.

My oral reef would cut me,
And Beal together would we,
Bubbles and me.

Munchies are awful,
They make me want to eat by the handful,
I feel less and less powerful,
As every hour goes by I eat, still full.

My appetite burns green,
It's for the good veggies, I mean.
Unfortunately I get paid so lean,
Anything healthy off a plate I rarely clean.

I eat starch, and I eat wheat,
I especially love it when I add meat.
All the wonderfully cheap things for myself I treat.
I find food in convenience stores neat!

It isn't the fuel I lack,
My heart rests at the spilling point.
I look not for kindled wood to keep me lit,
But for the Kinder voice that would yield the appropriate heat.
I am as cold as butane alone,
I burn for a companion.

Sparks are as cheap as thrills,
The wholesome whisper of the promised ignition teases the flint in my pockets.
I yet burn for another temporarily.
Yearning for the forever, while bursting over every one, ever.

Peasant pleasantries persist painfully,
Pouring through my pursed lips I stray a plenty.

For every fragrance carriers more then a scent,
They collaborate together,  a massive cyst in my mind.
I cannot overlook the Siren's smell.
Rather I take note and dwell.

Dwelling in the dark, looking down, I drink.
Water that rushes through the world comes to rest in my glass, as I contemplate the transparencies of my affection.

When you fixate on the petal of a flower,
Time moves off beat in waves of an hour,
Time bent,
And money spent.

All to impress someone who impresses you without trying.
You send me flying.
A scepticism
Proves all old mysticism.
You wear on top dark,
And your bottom light, like a shark.

I'm the wader in the dangerous tide,
And if I said you weren't worth it I lied.

You remind me of the sweet smell of baking cookies.
Remember getting treated like one of the rookies?

Ever since we met my knees grow weak,
I'm afraid my feelings have sprung a leak.

Something harder?
There is nothing, I'd barter.
For the affection I hold,
Must be met by you also, I am told.
So I must earn it, take the time to bond and learn,
Only then can the chemistry between us burn.

I don't feel desperate toward you,
Not at ease, the butterflies in my stomach still make me feel blue.
But it's OK, because in your eyes something has me go red,
While most of it is in my heart, not head,
I still feel a great interest here,
There is something special I don't yet know, dear.

Many adore you,  as would more with the chance,
But rather than having them all the opportunity with you to dance,
I shall offer myself first,
Hoping that in matters of this love I am not cursed.

The Moon is mild
As the Sun is wild.

The Sun isn't dark,
The Moon shines and glimmers,
Yet in a manner still, still...
Stark.

The Sun is weak,
The Moon is meek.
Together the rotation is a celestial compromise.

The Sun shines upon the evil and the atrocities that take place in the day,
As the Moon hangs in the shadows it will stay.

The Moon glows modestly over all of the vice people flock to for their life to have a little spice.

As the Sun believes and shines in the  brilianc  of truth and candor,
The Moon reflects in the reservations people share, as they refuse the truth and always take a dare.

Your face isn't something I'd like to stray from.
But my mind races,
A pair of ice blue eyes hold an oasis.
With you I feel I could share my whole self, not just some.

A solemn and sunken sight.
I look not pouted, nor upset,
But unwhole.
I am not yet complete, as I search to become.

A skeleton could focus better than I now.
My vision becomes blurred as my brain sinks to my stomach, next to my heart.

I am not yet content,
You T u hold no consent to be.
It's the content of my present that makes the gift of time seem so stale.

To change this all I must move...
Mind and body.

Maybe my placid gaze will be wiped clean,
Back to its once brilliant emerald glow.
Emerald? No.
But I cannot afford modesty if I wish a stronger to believe in me.