I dreamt that I found
a bag of rocks on the ground
and I popped them, one by one, into my
mouth, like prescription pills.
Even though I bit down as hard as I could, the
rocks still didn't break.
My teeth did though-
they spilled from my mouth like
pearly white confetti, only
briefly interrupted by the metallic
wires of my braces.
And the salty taste of blood in my mouth
made me cry like in second grade
when I said goodbye to my baby teeth.
And my mouth was pink
and there isn't anything left now
but an acrid emotion
I have no name for
and the overwhelming sensation
that I am dead, somewhere.