I didn't want to bite my nails
It was an impulse.
An itch in my brain,
A tick in my fingers.

The thup thup th--
Like a rabbit with a carrot,
I nibbled and gnawed
'Til there was little left.

The raw skin stung
From the leftover saliva.
Turned pink, I know I'd regret it.

Tried to shape the jagged edges,
Biting more off.
Less and less nail,
More and more exposed flesh.

The discomfort made me stop.
I tried to shake off the pain,
I regret biting my nails.

Words we don't understand
Singing. Always singing
Higher than humans
Higher than the clouds above
Enticing all within earshot.

Some wonder how
Some wonder why
But only Vitas himself knows.

Dance Vitas, dance.
With your platforms
And your sparkle suits.

Ending on a note,
Soprano of course
He grins at the crowd
His ego as lofty as his voice.

I get it now! I think..

My body is just full of
Tricksters that seep in
Through the tiny cracks
Of my thoughts.

They make my blood
Race. Forcing my heart
To beat vigorously and
My mind to run continuous
Circles.

The little imps tear a
Nest for themselves
Inside my organs and
Wriggle around until
They’re comfortable.

Now that I know
They’re there, waiting,
Growing, how do I
Get them out?

I am on the edge.
And I’m terrified.

Decisions made by others
Are slowly not happening
While I live my life on pause
For the answers.

Should I be relieved when
The answers come to me?
Because whether yay or nay,
The possible results still scare me.

I know I can’t be care-free
Anymore. Is that what one
Loses when they grow up?
The certainty that everything
Will work out?

My fingernails are jagged
Now from the endless nervous
Nibbling I catch myself doing.
Terrible habit, I know.

If I could just fast-forward
Life to the moment where
Everything is settled, all the
Knowledge necessary is known,
Maybe then I could begin
To relax. But as far as I know,
Such technology hasn’t been
Invented yet, so I’ll have to
Continue at this dreadfully
Slow pace and see how life
Turns out.

I feel like making a scene, like
The time we yelled at each other
In the store (most likely embarrassing
Mom), but I lack the energy to do so.

I’m just angry and I keep thinking
Of all the things that’ve made
Me angry in the past. Thinking
Of all the reactions I wish I
Had done instead of the lame
Ones I did.

Unlikely scenarios are playing
In my head. I prepare heated lines
That will probably never be spoken,
But I think them, just the same.

I’m trying to get over this, it’s
Just hard sometimes, you know?
Festering anger and unspoken words
Have always had a strong grip on my
Mind. Someday they’ll leave me alone,
Right?

I sometimes wonder where
The words come from. It must be
A fine cloth woven with truths,
With hopes, and maybe a little
Exaggeration. But that’s what
Makes it perfect. That’s what
Holds it all together. Yet things
Creep in, lies taint the cloth,
Unraveling the threads that bind it.
It becomes nothing more than a
Pile of words thrown together
Hoping to fool the unsuspecting
Reader into thinking it’s something.
I’d much rather weave than pick
Up the broken pieces.

It’s pretty chilly under these sheets
Without you.

I’m reduced to using the fake heat of an electric blanket, You know that?

Not quite the same.

Though I must admit, I do have more
Room on my little twin mattress, but
I’d much rather have less space and
You any day.