Self Destruction

My teeth are loose.

I feel them shift when I touch them with my tongue,

    or wiggle them with my fingers, like I am a child again,

    waiting to become an adult I'll never be.

And they come looser with time,

with every touch,

until I know there's no fight left in me,

and I push them all out with my tongue,

and I push out those that regrow again,

    and there is strength in not fighting the demise,

    but taking it into my own hands.

I wake with all my teeth,

and yet I do not touch them

    for fear that they will be made loose again.