An empty socket where wisdom
should be, the aftertaste of
blood coursing through the mouth.

I don’t miss solidity, I miss concrete.
I don’t miss foundations, I miss building.
I don’t miss you, I miss all of you.

My back is wound up like suspended in motion.
So much kineticism waiting to be unleashed,
like an overfull cup.

My tongue feels about the cavern
of my mouth like a blind man.
The void of something is easier
to identify than the presence of
something.

I didn’t know what to do with the tooth
so I cleaned it under the sink.
The decay, a small lake in
the side of white. I could
see through the layers,
cut right to the middle.

I don’t like examining myself in such a manner.
Much less, removed and extracted by clinical hands.

This is a love poem disguised as one that is not.
This is not a love poem disguised as itself.

This is the only way I can express the great
lie that is my heart is made of bones, to
refute and draw out the nerve and to
purge the bloody mouth clean.

Why is it that my writing is full of violence
like plaque on an unkempt smile?

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.