My Toothy Smile

My Toothy Smile

I return from class,

stumble to the kitchen,

throw the backpack to the floor.

My keys land with a chink and a clang on the counter.

Hungry.

Eat.

Turkey lunchmeat folds into my mouth.

Chew. Chew. Gone.

Ah, yes.

What’s next?

Wait. Eat. Yes. More.

The sweet. Now I crave the salty.

Balance. Perfection. Ah, yes.

I’m full, no I’m past full.

I am at that point and there’s no going back.

Keep going.

“Enjoy” more. Take in the flavor.

Make it uncomfortable.

Scavenge. Eat. No. Who cares?

Find the savory and devour the sweet.

I dig through the icy hell chamber

that holds my secret pleasures.

A cup? Not needed. Just a spoon.

Finish the pint.

I’m halfway. Stop. No. Eat.

“Keep going. It’ll be easier when it’s over.”

The spoon scrapes the cardboard.

Done. Ah, yes.

More!

Hurry, we can’t let it sit for too long.

The cheese.

A knife? Of course not. My teeth.

I take large bites from the perfectly angular block.

The lines, oh how straight those lines

and the the smoothness.

Not a bump. Not a crack. Perfection!

Perfection... I convince myself I need it.

That I can’t live without it.

I chomp violently into this masterpiece

with my unevenly rounded, yet jagged teeth.

My teeth. My truth. They know.

They hide behind plump, peach, captivating lips

who spit lies of perfection.

“I’m fine! I’m healthy! I’m happy!"

The teeth know how to barbarically dissect

Every perfect, terrifying…

block of cheese.

The cheese.

I’m full to the extent of breathlessness.

Do it now.

My teeth meet the con artists one more time.

The once glossy, rich, vanilla ice cream

is only a helpless, soupy liquid,

lost from her once unifying structure.

The peanut butter who used to be

sultry in her ability to drip from the spoon

in a tantalizing dance

now is anchored in a disfigured blob.

The cheese.

The Southern sunset colored cheese,

her edges so straight,

oh, how straight!

Constant. Unblemished. Reliable.

She now appears dismantled in chunks in front of me,

Tainted and intertwined with the other victims

who were torn apart and exposed

of their true selves.

Flush.

Ahh…yes.