It's hard holding my tongue I don't know how you've done it
Inside the mouth, she found a staircase along her teeth, leading upstairs past any sinus issues right to the good stuff. The tongue had been rough but and just a bit wet, like a shag carpet at the entrance to a party. She didn't know whether to be worried or disgusted as she climbed the white, stepping hard on a cavity.
She didn't know what she'd find and imagined it as she wandered up past the nose and took in a whiff of whatever it was smelling. A fire, outside she'd guess, with natural wood. Just a note of pine.
She came to a door, that had scribbled in adolescent handwriting, ENTER IF YOU DARE. She turned the knob and stepped in with a gasp. How much should you fear the mind?