Self Destruction

My teeth are loose.

I feel them shift when I touch them with my tongue,

or wiggle them with my fingers, like I am a child again,

waiting to become an adult I'll never be.

And they come looser with time,

with every touch,

until I know there's no fight left in me,

and I push them all out with my tongue,

and I push out those that regrow again,

and there is strength in not fighting the demise,

but taking it into my own hands.

I wake with all my teeth,

and yet I do not touch them

for fear that they will be made loose again.

Notes: nightmares used to be incredibly stressful for me, because my belief that my dreams were cosmically important made it seem like there had to be some truth in them. now, I am stable enough to not think this way about my dreams. they help fuel my creativity, being the starting point for a number of my books, but there are still certain things that recur without being useful in that way. my hope is that writing poetry about them will give me a new purpose, until I eventually don't dream of pushing all my teeth out anymore.