one monstrous toothache at a time

playing Jenga

with myself

god I hate that the word Jenga

shares its first three letters with

you coming back soon

you making me feel awful again

soon i'm contorting my face

to suppress its distress

playing Jenga with myself

pulling bricks out from the bottom

wobbling to and fro in my bed

and hardly anyone knows

the what of me or the how of me

especially the watchman of these hands

it's all so close to my face

i can hardly see what's going on

but the changes the changes the changes

got a saliva & mind of their own

keeping me in my cocoon-bed

till my chrysalis has had enough of this

and i'll flash a smile at you

so bright you forget where you are