Chair Of Terror Poem by Gordon D Wilkinson

Smelling antiseptic fumes
Fear rising fast
Imagining bloody gushing spumes
How long will this treatment last?
Excruciating the needles point
Back and forth, they go
Just in the flesh, thankfully no joint
Numbness grows so slow
Spit and wash to clear
Lay back close your eyes so tight
Digging around that poking spear
Much to the technicians delight
Tools gripping
Wrenching, ripping
Wadding packed in tight
“Bite down with some now dear will all your might”
Stopping the red seeping flow
His nurse trills, “It’s over now”
“Goodbye Mr Tooth now you can go”
As the sweat trickles off the brow
“Make another appointment at the desk” I hear in the distance
As I run quickly from their sight
No more for me the dentist’s devilish dance
To go back I will kick and fight