molars sore from
grinding through recurring
about flesh
and skin,
salmon colored,
spewing where it
should never go.

last time it was a trick,
concealed evil,
but tonight it was disease —
it is often times disease.

maybe there is a lesson i should be learning,
or someone i should be saving,
that would finally free me
from these dreams.

as i spit the blood
with the toothpaste,
i’m unsure how many more times
i can stomach to try,
unsure how much more enamel
can be worn away
before my flesh,
becomes gummy,

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