the pulling.

the pulling.

The pulling. Metal bracing against my face. Tiny hammers beating out from the inside of ivory. Sensations of familiar rather than pain.

Clik. Clik. Clik.

The upper level of my jaw clicking forward.

Movement jerks slowly remind me of a memory. A feeling of familiar enters my mind. A feeling of being able to remove my teeth that’s never happened. Only it feels true.  Never introduced but old company to my mind. Thoughts of pulling machines and pushing fingers leap to the front of my mind as I witness the destruction.

It’s the same dream.

Always the same dream. Until I realize that it’s not a dream.

Pressure against the back of my teeth. As the lower jaw remains firm, the upper shifts in the constant tug of war. A war that must wage on at all costs to extricate them. A feeling that must be true because it’s always happened.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Bracing.

Jerking.

Pain?

The distant echo of laughter fills the air capsizing and surfacing between the drifting madness of my mind. Unable to fully make clear of this predicament I watch the working hands of madness sink into and out of my mouth attempting to remove a plague. One by one they fall inward with purpose.

Clik. Clik. Clik.

Tighter the brace grinds into my jaw.  The deep laughter grows louder. A rising din creeps as though it was from within a deepness reaching out into the air. Outward come the darkened pieces of flesh attached to tiny white rooted trees.

Upside down.

Inside out.

The top line of white keys slide out with the ease of wheels turning. Incisors removed from their natural home. Replaceable pieces of gold and silver line these banished pieces. Teeth firmly secured together by metal bracing are now free as my small hands continue to take care of business.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Releasing.

Freedom.

Slippery gives way to movement. There’s no more pressure as the final pieces of jaw break by touch. Biting down empty to the taste of metal mixed with blood. Missing pieces remain as tiny fingers reach in and extract the pointed tools. One by one they quickly react to pull the remains of white with delicacy and precision until hollows remain seeking the ivory that once inhabited.

Laughter fills the broken down barriers of my jaw. A sense of freedom obtained from liberating the small white daggers within.

400. Pulling Teeth. Dentists. Ever hear about someone playing dentist on their own mouth? I have. And… Once had the revelation that I could take out part of myself as well. Ever think that? As though something was removable when in fact it was not. Anyhow, this is light darkness. Just a lil skewing of the lines ending up with a bit of gruesome mixed in. Have a good night. Enjoy. Kisses. m.