I make myself dizzy,

spoon-feeding the dark-eyed girl who lives in my mouth.

She sleeps on my tongue,

rests her head atop my molars 

and awakens mad.

Most days she sobs and screams,

her voice shrill like a child’s,

piercing through my head.

There is no silence.

Only her sharp words, like broken glass

flooding my mouth with blood.

She tells me I’m disgusting,

laughs when I spit red.

God, I wish I knew how to believe,

that between the two of us,

she is the evil one.

I tell myself again:

these teeth are tombstones,

marking the graves of all the wicked creatures I’ve swallowed so far.

The girl who lives in my mouth will soon find herself

in the pit of my stomach,

rotting alongside the evil.