Trip to the Orthodontist

Doc Bush,

Leans back the chair,

Like an OG barber,

Too old

To be shaving

nappy ass neck beards,

But still,

addicted to this routine,

Of confidence

Reconstruction.

Doc gets to work

On my braces,

Poking and prodding

This man,

Can see how many swishers

I bought this month.

Can smell,

Just how loud

I have to be,

To survive

Like an OG barber,

Laying finishing touches,

On a taper

Doc,

clips the wires

Poking my jaw,

Says,

“Ooo Chile,

You must really

love them herbs”

I clap back,

“Naw Doc,

I’m,

A Fuckin herbivore.

I’m talkin Puff puff,

Like A chimney On fire,

got enough Smoke

to choke this office

With my

addictive personality

Like Doc,

Fr I be hazy in this bitch”,

He chuckles at my youth.

tells me

“On a serious note

son,

You gotta Stop smoking

Before these appointments”

And my voice gets stuck,

In last nights phlegm

But it’s fine,

I mean

It’s not like,

you can really speak,

With 10 fingers,

Searching your teeth

For a road

That doesn’t lead

To the shame,

Of your breath,

Describing your morning routine,

Like an OG barber

Droppin priceless gems mid cut

Doc tells me,

“You need To floss young blood

It’ll help

With the place build up”

And I hear,

“Honestly,

You’re a few therapy

Sessions away,

From Teeth

the color of coffee stains,

On linen sheets,

You got addiction

Screaming from

your gums nigga.

I hear it,

Lodged between breaths,

Someone your age,

Should not be fighting to take,

You’re taking

Your body for granted,

proactively seeking

Rock bottom,

Cause you a stoned

cold nigga right?

Always Looking

For a lighter, right?

Tryna find warmth,

In burning hairs,

Boy, your lungs,

Are a scorched wheat field,

In the middle

Of an east side

Heat wave,

And you

Have been dry heaving

Your way

Through summer nights,

While dreams

Die in fires

You refused

to put out,

Just roll up

Another distraction,

Can’t see anything,

When high enough,

To ignore,

All bridges,

Burnt on your way

To public intoxication

And I get it.

Sometimes the burns

On the back

Of yo throat,

Hurt less,

than the pain

Of sobriety

Tap dancing

Across your mind,

But you need it

To face facts kid,

You’re high as hell

In the midst

Of your lowest moment,

You’re stinking up my office,

It’s not a good look,

No matter what

you’re going through,

And I know,

You’re going through some shit.

The metal on your teeth

Ain’t the only thing

Weighing your smile down,

But still,

Unclench your jaw young fella,

Breathe,

Like before

You smeared

Tar on your lungs,

Breathe,

Deep and hard,

let your wheezing

Remind you,

There is always a cost

For coping,

With situations

You can change,

Breathe lil homie,

you’re sturdy,

Even when your will

ain’t tryna be,

You’re a good kid,

Just keep your head

Out them smoke clouds,

Stay grounded,

You’ll be aight,”

And Like a stupid

Mothafucka

Too baked

For the all the truth,

Found in

barbershop roast sessions,

I nod my head,

And say nothin,

For the rest

of my appointment.