What if I told you I get sick everytime
I light a cigarette
and the streaking spots of fat
underneath me
and the ones that make me
are in slight decay?

And that the somber sobers
are better off without you
and better off alone untouched
and that you too
decay away?

Your slinky teeth matter not much
neither your slinky face
slinky slinker
decay away

Shiny teeth
Rosy stone