The Clean Chair

Sitting under bright lights 
Glasses covering my cobalt eyes
As my blood pressure rises 
There are instruments everywhere 
Metallic objects that feel alien
As I sit against gray leather trying 
To keep my fear at bay 
On my left side are vials for numbing 
And needles to inject 
It needs to be done, but I still want to run
Because blood and pain aren't my vibe
Neither are fillings and extractions 
I have never prayed so much in my life
As the procedure begins and I see faces 
Looking down, I wonder if I locked the door,
Trying to escape the pain in my face 
As I think of mundane things 
So many objects are in my mouth 
It feels violating, but it is for my own good
Infections and abscesses can kill
It is better to be uncomfortable in this clean chair 
Than in a coroner's fridge somewhere.