i have been given the signs
and they taste just like wine
in that i've never known what it's like
to follow through with anything good
like paradise in stitches and worn by a child
your mother asking for your care, your time
but you still choose to linger in a place
where the zoned-out stay for moments in a day
you choose to tear the flowers clean out of your ribcage
give them a bright dye, keep them on display
to regurgitate all over this cold hospital white

i have been given the signs
of a perfectly sweet life
and i am still scared of toothache