All manner of
vile things
drip from the roof
of my skull and sit
in waiting
behind my teeth,
those crooked gates
that keep the enemy out
But when morale
breaks, they
pour out like lava
down my lips
down my chin
I wretch to the floor
Is this what I am
kept captive for?
Ignore the burning
scent, that's
just my ****** features
I've held it all behind those
tall walls for too long and
now it's shades of cinder and
my teeth are only splinters.