i put my fingers in my mouth
salty
honey soap tasting
i can feel the pulse in my upper lip
desperately beating

i can feel my pulse uneven
when i jab my fingers into my neck,
like a dancer slightly falling offbeat,
distracted with the smoke

or maybe that's just my imagination,
my father had arrhythmia,
so did my grandfather.

both of them abused substances
and drank irish ***
and black coffee with sugar,
both of them wrote about things
like "passion" and "sunset",
both of them had troubles with commitment,
uneven smiles
and
bad teeth.
both of them ate too much sugar,
and laughed really loudly,
both of them liked arguing
and letting stories fall from the caves of their mouth,
leading armies with their teeth
their tongue a home for dragons.

it only takes a skip of a beat,
the dancer to fall completely
for me to become
another carbon copy.