In a drunken state of deep despair,
I think about Dr Kazinski
and his practise in the East End.
I think about his posters,
torn and wrinkled
showing white picket-fence families
eating carrots like rabbits,
and caring for teeth like all families should.
That was a long time ago.
Now in the absence of regular dental visits,
teeth become brittle
and fillings fall out and shatter.
These become food traps,
with little parcels of decaying meat
that dental floss cannot reach.
Christ, the thought of it now as he pushes the pin,
that starts the drill
that journeys to the centre of the earth.
God help me and my condition,
the excessive booze,
my absolute fear
and why I will never go back
to Dr Kazinski and his rabbits.

Written by Jack Brewis