Trust in Fangs

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tying knots in his head

it feels great to unwind at the end of the day

snail shell head band,

taking off the layers, frame by frame

and a tremor

of rivulets in a melting sweet cream cone

grey day in the middle world

there is no taste, just substance

sliding down shelves of skin like a blanched serpent

trust in fangs

to pierce and protect the daisy chasers

to sting and infect

the positively confident nods

creamy white, no respite

it knows your plight and

ravishes a bite,

just trust in fangs

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