TW: Mentions of gore, self-harm
Trichotillomaniac
searching for something
some kind of relief
some kind of pain
some kind of rest
some kind of brain.
Every strand,
gently tug
until it breaks
and sweep it under the rug.
Sensory breaks me
Breaking myself fixes the harm
Contradictions in my mind-
Hair on my arm
Skin wasn't meant for this
ripped and itched
I don't hate myself, I swear
there's simply a pimple there
The story is simple,
it goes in this way:
Pimple
Pop
Bleed
Scab
Bleed
Scab
Bleed
Scab
Scar!
And an itch
Pull
Itch
Pull
Itch
Pull
Go bald!
I've tried things.
Clicked my teeth.
Snapped my fingers.
Whistled some tunes.
Bit my lip.
Pulled my ears.
Entwined my fingers-
but everything
every stim
leads back to
the hair
the scab
the feel of the pop.