I knew it was bad when my fingernails were ringed
with red
as I ran them over ribbons and excused myself
from confetti cake to make them
redder.
my head was burning
a sparkling candle burning
my hands were yearning
a spazzing sticking yearning
my family was singing
a muffled stifling singing
my ears were ringing
a loud ear-piercing ringing
sing
ring
sting
stop stop stop my scalp is stinging
Nothing was clear until my fingernails
were red
and coated with pieces of my head:
rubbed raw and picked clean
You’re telling me
this is something you haven’t seen?
It doesn’t make sense because:
I don’t put pencils in a perfect pristine line
I don’t count my cheerios before I can dine
I can turn the lights on and off just fine
but my fingernails
are red
and apparently that’s a sign.
I can tell you where
every single pinprick lives
and spreads fire down my scalp
into my brain
How it tells me
your math homework can wait
save me
or you’ll go insane
My nails are short
but still red
My brain is intact
but still missing its head
Oh, how I could See the Disorder in a
demented disturbed decision
to forfeit my favorite vanilla cake
for blood
stop stop stop, i’m begging you, brain
you can’t stop; you know you need pain
leave me alone, and you’ll go insane.