A Sensory Trigger As It Occurs: Toothhole Pissbucket
10:19 AM
tooth-hole pissbucket
the place where a tooth once existed, but does no longer
seems to be trying to pull me into its viscous, gummy darkness
I run my sandpaper tongue over
and around the spot.
It feels strangely pleasurable, applying pressure
But then--
there she is
curled up on the cold floor
of a camper mid-winter
her prison
doubled over in pain. Drooling
bloody, thick saliva; she cannot help it
she's drowning in it
trying to spit it into her PISSBUCKET
sniffling and whimpering
the pain of the infection blasting
like a clanging cymbal through her head
like a wrecking ball through her spine,
like poison blood in her veins
Radiating down to her ankles
"That's not going to fucking help"
her jailer scoffs
she cries like a child
"Oh shut the fuck up, you're a hypochondriac"
her jailer scoffs
"It hurts!" she cries
"Get the FUCK up off the floor"
her jailer
"I said get the FUCK up!"
her jailer
but her legs are numb
"I... can't... stand..." she moans
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