Little rounded shining in a dull sort of way black as night
jelly beans.
They stick to my molars at 10:16 at night, and my tongue
seeks out the extra sticky bits on my canines after I swallow. Corn syrup
sweetness and false licorice linger in the spaces between my taste buds and I
chew thoughtfully on a few more, wondering why I am incapable of writing about
anything but tiny, unimportant things like the creases forming between my
eyebrows and spiders in the corners of my room where the walls greet each other
in a fold of darkness and my relentless pursuit of pain and little rounded
shining in a dull sort of way black as night jelly beans.
