how to not die alone(on hold)

conception of a fight (beware wolves)

they say; "teeth are the bones that
want to feel violence not witness it,"
grown in blood unyielding, yet
tragically born to
bite your tongue
keep it all locked up, cosy and warm but
warm becomes hot and hot becomes,
scalding.

so out spill scalding words with teeth crashing
grinding themselves into moon powder so romantic that
in their final moments of destruction,
desolation,
they became the very thing they idolised,
the very thing they sung hymns and howled their desperation toward,
in vain.
now theyre gummy and spiteful and toxic waste comes dripping between your lips when you snarl,
and they're gone but viciousness looks an awful lot like
the molars that used to lay nestled in your mouth.
so,
your teeth are the bones that wanted to feel violence, skin to skin like a mother
and her newborn child.

//ok this ones abig mess and im sorry for that so if anyone has any constructive criticism, or even just plain criticism(maybe its been a rough day for u)//