She clenches her jaw in her sleep
and there are furrows in her forehead
where mountains are being made
from mole hills inside her dream-mind.
She wakes up and takes two aspirin
to relieve the bite of her headache
brought on, I'm sure, by the repeated
night to night, day to day, grind.
The daily grind of life pushing her down
as almost dead pencil onto paper
Life tries to squeeze every last atom
of her capabilities from her time.
She grits her teeth in her sleep.
Toothache festers as she bites back
all the things she refuses to say aloud,
all the pain she tried to Novocaine.
She grinds the words into the enamel
and chews up the dust and decay
of a half swallowed tooth, truth,
and tries to rest before starting again.