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Teeth Dreams and other Sharp Things
I said there’s a lions’ den living inside of me
a flicker of fight, a menace to society,
my roar is a promised land, a sharp thing.
And in my dreams I tried to tame the lions
and they swore they could never be tamed
and I swore I could never tame me
Outside of the lions’ den
I consist of small acts of mayhem
bad habits and bad days
are always chasing me and I
am one flicker away,
one foot in the grave away
from joining their club of kindness and claws
and sharp things that don’t bite, like me.
Like my deceptive fragility.
I lied, I fought, I picked locks
on open doors.
I tried to make a change and rise
like a phoenix from the ashes
but I only hit the rooftops
and got cobwebs in my hair
and spit out ashes
during polite conversations
(no wonder I’m only at home with the lions)
In my dreams I’m roaring, and by morning
there’s still this lions’ den living inside of me,
I have outlaw eyes a flicker of fight and one foot
in the grave and a roar so tremendous
you’d need a richter scale to measure it.
