999 Z17

my teeth are pearls
— look at them go dull
when I’m a fool
so full
on my own blood

my high horse
has some soft legs
and a twisted back
but I stroke him
right under the ear
and he smells like ink
drying on lavender
so how can I abandon my pride
when it carries my own weight

if darkness substitutes itself
for love in all of her orange
glow
then won’t that be a nice day