God bless morbid loathing of the human mouth
Confess disease and feel a satisfaction of your own
The bright and airy honesty of wholesomeness
Has nothing for the back teeth to fasten into
The action is removed to the front of the mouth
And what is left but introverted rubbings?
The motion of gyrating molars further mocked
By empty, cutting canines
A piece of peanut
Hot coffee on the gums
The guilt of the body for its own blind needs
Canines do not care for their satisfaction
And cannot understand the cravings of those buried ones
Like hard mushrooms reared in the dank earth of the mouth
They feed only blindly
A piece of peanut
Hot coffee on the gums
The guilt of the body for its own blind needs