Toothpicks

A wooden stake

jabbed into the heart of my tooth

prodding and poking

a tooth excavation

digging

not for gold

not for treasure

but for the decaying rot

hiding in the cracks of enamel

every scrape or two examined for pay-dirt

the bigger the chunk of old food

the better I feel

and the longer I wait for the inevitable pain

you know that pain

when your tooth becomes a pantry for evil

rotting and feeding itself on your molars

hidden by bad brushing and a contempt for floss

or maybe it's a sweet tooth

burning those caps away with acidic joy

another theory is genetics

destined to wear dentures by 40

a prophecy of bad breath

keep digging fools

you'll never get it all

and that day of agony will come

pounding and thrashing your skull

torture only a true mother of nature could give