"secales" poems
Don’t take my keys away from me
I need to open my car
So I can drive to a dentist
My mouth is covered in tar
I have twigs in my stomach
And dust in my ears
I need to pull them out
Or vines will grow in my veins
And ants will live in my head
But my dentist is no botanist
“I don’t deal with twigs” is all he said
So I take an ice cream scooper
And I put in on my stomach
To scoop away the twigs
And the great gold nugget
That is traveling through my lungs
And choking me to death
But the scooper fails
And all the secales
Take away my last breath
My dentist has no medicine
And now my body is leaves
And the dust departs from my ears
But I am no longer able to see
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC