The Deviant Strand


 

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I bite my tongue the instant the doctor's assistant punches holes into 7 crisp report printouts I bite now, that's my thing If knuckle nails is to wolverine Unbidden masochistic biting is to me, I'm wolver-rani My teeth, it is the one good thing I got from my father The very same set of even molars, aesthetic incisors and sharp canines And how I choose to care for it is to not Barring the nighttime brushing routine There is daily jhanjhanahat they must endure In the form of cold water and hot oatmilk chai But enough about crowns bound to jaws I didn't come out of my writer's block for this What I did want to write about is the philosophical undertone of teeth clenching and what it means about control, or the lack of it About wanting to keep your head (and jaw) above water because life is not consistently kind About being a drama queen, with crowns plural, who seeks sympathy in oatmilk chai because dairy is apparently not my friend, and supposedly never was I wanted
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Tethered and twisted; Tethered and twisted I lay in the sand. Fumbling and tumbling and lost and down on the ground, Groggy and bloody and clumsy. I am unreachable. I am wasted and thrown. Blotched are my scars of the night. I am broken beyond repair, Nobody asked you to come fix me. You couldn't even if you tried is one thing, I'd rather you not is another. Untimely is this occasion. Blasphemous is this situation.   I am where I am You're where you are; And you're where you are Twisted and devious Jumbled and knotted You are All that you are I am All that I am Look now, there your carriage goes Without you Run after it lest you miss it Why should I, you question, When it won't stop for me? I give you that knowing look you know so well And say For if you don't it shall leave you behind You then give me a knowing look I know so well And say I'd rather be behind if it means being with you.
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