God bless morbid loathing of the human mouth Confess disease and feel a satisfaction of your own The bright and airy honesty of wholesomeness Has nothing for the back teeth to fasten into
The action is removed to the front of the mouth And what is left but introverted rubbings? The motion of gyrating molars further mocked By empty, cutting canines
A piece of peanut Hot coffee on the gums The guilt of the body for its own blind needs
Canines do not care for their satisfaction And cannot understand the cravings of those buried ones Like hard mushrooms reared in the dank earth of the mouth They feed only blindly
A piece of peanut Hot coffee on the gums The guilt of the body for its own blind needs