Generation Loss

There’s something in the breakdown
in the way, his filthy teeth shown through
That grit
that grime
That dirt


Each time I saw him he looked more decayed
more dilapidated and worn down

It was in his mouth
like something acrid had crawled its way from the back of his throat
All the way into the cavern of his jaw
then kicked teeth out for fun

Each time I saw him the spaces between his teeth had grown wider                            leaving a gaping crooked maw
It affected more than the look of his mouth
the function of it too


if it could even be called that
Where it had once sounded so punctual and present
Now it sounded vacant
like every time he spoke a word his shrill piercing wale
Would ricochet back and forth across non-existent walls

His voice sounded like…
like when you place two mirrors opposite each other
And they reflect infinitely back and forth
you have the urge to step inside
To creep between those mirrors and wander whatever hall exists there

that’s how his voice sounded
After so much use

a cacophony of noise
Of machine-like whirring
clicks and whizzes
so unnatural

He spoke only in staccato
He was the worst palimpsest I’d ever known


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