An oral poem We cut our teeth on each other’s lipsyour love grippedand rotted awayas tooth decayin the corner of my mouthreclining back in the dentists chairhere, in this placeI’m acutely aware of the colour of my ceiling the buzzing of the toolsdrilling deep into the depths of my being the dentist, all seeing I,Continue reading “The Dentists Chair”
Poetry, and other thoughts, by Darius the Mate
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