Worry - Poem by Tea Kawana
It feels like plastic,
At the part where my lips
clasp; they’re curled and peel off.
Saliva’s carcass lies between them too;
white, stretched to the corners.
My tongue rarely moves,
only forced by a toothbrush
to drive away the bacteria and reek
that now tastes permanent.
My eyes: sleepless, pale,
Unable to repress all that they see
Thoughts swerve inside my head.
Turning and twisting
they cause my vessels to
I cannot help it but
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