I haven’t spoken
in long enough
that my lips
have sealed
I run my tongue
over the seam,
smooth and even.
I pull them apart
a peeling
of the layers.
I feel my teeth,
the grime and 
sugar coating,
the grooves and
all my gums.
When I open
my mouth,
it feels like
a gaping maw,
an endless hole
deep down into
the core of me.
The world might
work it’s way
down and yank
out my soul,
slip it right
through my
I leave it there,
But all I feel
is a gentle wind
and a nagging
urge to scream
and stamp my feet.
To stop and feel
my madness.
And so I do.