.                  Bite tear and shred,
               This impulse in my head.

            For the pleasure i do destroy,
               Oh how my fingers bled.

Pretty little teeth, like knives in a pearly sheath, their vicious imprint lingers in the wounds upon my fingers.

                     Bite tear and shred,
                This impulse must be fed.

           No pain too feel it's in my head,
       No pain to feel nerve endings dead.

                    No way i can conceal,
                   my flesh that i do peel,

my Blood starts to congeal,
        my skin it slowly heals.
                        
                           Fresh for another day,
                                    to take my mind away.

When restless​ fingers lead lips astray, in this oddly calming, destructive foreplay.

I found,  long ago, to first say thank you very much,
when online or at a dinner table, to
keep my elbows down
and chew with my mouth closed.

To, if I find an ungnawable chunk of gristle
I can't swallow, discretely take a napkin
and put it to my mouth
say hey!
Who is that and point, as I spit it into

the napkin then go on, enjoying the cultured gathering,
sip , with a finger , a pinky pointed in the air,
my tea and never spill
hot liquids.
I learned all that

at the nudist camp

My disability doesn't define me.
It doesn't matter what you see.
What you learn matters,
And hopefully your prejudice shatters.