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His teeth were endless,

but sometimes a whistle chirped
when he spoke with his tongue wet,
I snort and grind what's left,

the last day's always best.

He asked for my address,
where my hips split and bent,
but I listened to my head:

that room's been compressed,

and silence settles better
when I hear the lighter crackle
without his lips caked and circled,

my afternoon is running.

Now it throbs outward
from a center which
expands, scripted,

ringing,

though matter remains constant,
pupils dilated and glossy,
his pipe still smoking.

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:icongreenleo94:
greenleo94 Featured By Owner Nov 24, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I don't feel like this is as strong as some of your other works, but I can't stop reading it. It's extremely alluring.
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:iconstarsword:
Starsword Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2013   Writer
Intriguing. A very interesting poem, though I am only about 65% or so sure that I understand what it means.... 
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:iconjuliocmiranda:
JulioCMiranda Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
This is something that at first hints towards the disturbing,
your usage of the imagery of endless teeth and strange dialects
suggests the presence of a monster.

But then reading further I see that drugs and sex are hinted at.
The snorting of that final bit,
the allure of that space between our legs,
the disorientation of someone who's maybe had a bit too much.

This was a visual treat,
and was presented in a way that gave the feeling of this piece of 
work a touch of confusion and of observation.

Thanks a bunch, I enjoyed this a lot.

Reply
:iconnumb1:
numb1 Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2013  Student Photographer
wow, a lot of images flew through my head reading this. I like it
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