the pencap
The pencap has taken on a shape
not found in nature,
and, as I write this, it writhes
in the clutches of my persistent
jaws.
.
I like the resistant yield of deformed
plastic between incisors
and bicuspids--
the pointy teeth and the grindy ones
--though I can never be sure
which is which.
.
I like the pencap's taste: slightly
sweet, but inherently void
of all nutritional value,
and, fortunately,
all calories.
.
The broken lid is rough
on my chapped lips
and damp with spit. I turn
it internally as I chew
to create different formations within
the everchanging caverns of my mouth
(not unlike those of my soul).
.
It seems I have taken the words that I
want to, need to
say--
the "i love you"s
the "screw you"s
the "screw me"s
the "this is who i truly am"s
(that I never dare to whisper let alone speak aloud)--
and chiseled them into a tiny tablet
of pop culture plastic
now taking shape between two rows
of undying bone that grind
themselves to sleep each
night and smile
their soul away each day.
.
The pencap is my martyr in the self-
ordained church of self-
judgment and fear.
.
I myself would like to hide in the mouth
of God
and be chewed up into
something beautiful
bearing
the words of omnipotent wisdom
on my god-bitten arms,
legs, stomach, face
and skin.
.
I could almost certainly give
myself over to the absent-minded
bite of the divine
(much like this pencap
has given itself up
mercifully to be the sounding
and bruising board for my
almost-unchewed life).
.
dear god,
take this unbroken
store-bought lid of a human being
and with your semiconscious
and absent minded musings,
mold me into something as
interesting as it is asymmetrical
and beautiful
(finally)
for once...
.
Or are you too busy--
too refined for such things?
And if I'm not good enough for even
the mouth of God,
where is there left for me to go?
.
Bite me, God.
.
Bite me....
posted by amanda @ 10:05 PM
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