Punchline is Inside

I bite my tongue the instant the doctor's assistant punches holes into 7 crisp report printouts
I bite now, that's my thing
If knuckle nails is to wolverine
Unbidden masochistic biting is to me, I'm wolver-rani
My teeth, it is the one good thing I got from my father
The very same set of even molars, aesthetic incisors and sharp canines
And how I choose to care for it is to not
Barring the nighttime brushing routine
There is daily jhanjhanahat they must endure
In the form of cold water and hot oatmilk chai
But enough about crowns bound to jaws
I didn't come out of my writer's block for this
What I did want to write about is the philosophical undertone of teeth clenching and what it means about control, or the lack of it
About wanting to keep your head (and jaw) above water because life is not consistently kind
About being a drama queen, with crowns plural, who seeks sympathy in oatmilk chai because dairy is apparently not my friend, and supposedly never was
I wanted to write to not wallow in glorious 'woe is me'
But to wander though a thoughtscape of words that I don’t hold back
Certainly not through clenched teeth, but lay free and untethered
And endless jabs of the keys later, feel like a return to safe place much like home
A home I left behind years ago
A home I wasn't born in
But many versions of me were

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