The teeth fit somewhere in my mouth
where do they fit?
My mouth doesn't have space
I feel each person's attempt
To build their stall
To sell their goods
fitting the roof
Putting slats in for the walls
But these teeth don't fit
So how am i supposed to eat?
Life is fairgrounds and novelty
People walk through hardened sand
Looking behind them
To see if their footprints stuck
I can't get these teeth to stick
What am I about to lose?
Stoke the fire room
My mind needs heat
my heart does too
The room under the hill
In this forest at the ends of the earth
It is table upon table of wood atop each burning
Inside the shadowed room
The entrance a mouth speaking
little sparks and bursts of heat
lips and tongues are flames
There are no eyes to discern
For the burning is the blindness itself
The internalness the living close to ones own hot heart
Pumping the fire through earth of body
The scream of existence
That only really stops
when you drop dead
The retirees lived in a world of their own
With the spirits of those who had passed on
Books previous residents left
House plants that had outgrown their pots
But were still beautiful and lively
Somehow their little haven intact
Their collections and hobbies had become their lives
Their pet names and inside jokes gluing their days together
Long hours spent playing their instruments
Or picking fruit from the orchard
Death comes imposingly like imperial soldiers
To carry you off despite the grand sacrifices
The two men walked out of their building.
They smiled at the sun and jumped down from the sidewalk to the gutter.
It was half a meter to keep the pedestrians feet dry in the summer rains.
The two men who were just brats in reality danced across the tarmac.
The sun fried the darkest edges of the road.
The aroma of breakfast foods permeated the streets.
Both just pretended the world was great.
But infact they had been evicted.
Both smelled like mold, old sweat and sour garbage.
But they wore smiles, they forced them across their faces.
Survival demanded fake nonthreatening joy.
Beside frowning wouldn't save them anyway.
The night's games have begun.
Drapes were drawn guests were stunned
The tight room filled with impulsive men and beautiful women.
The swagger of the trembling thirsty braggarts flew in.
Chaos, the fear of missing out, fleeting attractions
Mixed with inebriation from powder cut in fractions
Over sweetened words, exaggerated reactions.
A panel of gossipers to shame and to track sins.
Bouts of laughter that seemed would kill the laugher.
Games of every type but mostly illusions.
From harmless to ones that leave contusions.
But all were just excuses purely ruses.
Streetlights guiding the wanters in to feel less dead.
they were pythons wearing lamps on their heads.
Addictions were organized and satisfied to ease spicy glowers
So that quips and jokes could improve for about half an hour.
Eyes scanned the room looking for sympathy, yet scorn we are.
Each being self absorbed on the edge of their fragile euphorias.
None had an inkling of real love for the next. each a bubble.
Games went on with winners pretending they were humble.
Losers pretending they hadn't lost, exit, mumble, now waiting with a gun.
Vices and the intense visceral drive to fulfill took them over one by one.
The dinner table itself was a house many meters across.
The people ate off it's broad roof.
They shouted for specific foods.
One waiter had a beak and stalk legs and would walk around the house.
Offering substitutes the house diners preferred beyond for the common fare.
Plates were filled but arrived late.
Grins turned to grimaces.
Laughing to silence.
Waiters all had beaks and stalk legs and walked around the house.
Handing the impatient guests their plates after long delays.
Dishes all missing specific ingredients.
Often the the thing that made the food zing.
Alex and his friend stepped out onto the street.
Popular guys that suddenly had purpose. A hundred projects.
The street was warm because morning sun had declared itself.
Alex was the choppy one, his friend was the smooth one. Their first order of business was to steal my dog. And they did it. They ran off with my dog and tied a look a like to a street drain grill. I went I freed the dog but mine was long gone.
Alex and his friend attempted to sell my dog at an auction. But he was no pedigree, he had no special features beside his pointed ears and smart eyes.
What made my dog special was the personal Love I had for him.
So when i saw him being exchanged for a tenner in the garage of the Alex's house, I gave a hundred to the guy who bought him. Took my dog back. Cast the evil eye on all who attended, made a note of fire escapes and left proudly through the front door.
