If I don't have to answer a text
I won't look at it
That way,
My phone continues to tell me
That I have a message
And I feel a little less alone,
Like someone actually
Wants to talk to me

I count my notebooks
Every morning
Before school
Even if I haven't touched them all night
Just to be extra sure

I smile when I'm sad
Just to look happy
For everyone out there
Even when the best thing
To do
Would be to cry my eyes out

I have a lot
Of silly habits

Tricho-tillo-mania.
It rolls quite nicely off the tongue
Like the type of disease one with
Deep seated fears and complex facades
Would possess
When did this bad habit begin and form?
Has is always been silently lurking within this body?
Ready to pounce on any destructive opportunity
That would arise from my gut

Tricho-tillooooo-maniaaa.
I can overcome it, I know I can
Wait no, an hour went by and oh
Another pile of discarded hair on the floor
Again. And again.
If this luxurious mane of thick, dark hair is so
Admirable and wanted.
Why can I not stop plucking it from the very
Fibers of my skull’s skin?

Tricho-tillo-mania.
Keep it up and there will be naught
A single strand left on top of this girl’s head
My fingertips are aching and raw
Pleading with me to stop this
Nitpicking of these brown straws
Even as I type my nails
Scratch and burrow into my flesh
Pricking and prodding for what?
I wish I knew so I could tell you.

Trichotillomania.
Maybe my innermost desire
Is to rip this bruised skin and broken hair off my body
Until I am nothing more than a hot, ****** mess
Of congealed, dripping, internal organs
And a new case of polished, refined
Poreless, porcelain skin
and ruby- red sensual lips
Could **** me up and out of it
A perfect stranger would emerge
Free from my vice and sin.

It's exactly 12 AM.
Avoiding you again.
Back to old habits.
Pushing you away when I can't do anything anymore.
When all I feel is guilt.
I try not to do it, but it's so easy to be tempted into doing old habits.
Especially the worst ones.
Sorry for all the trouble I've caused you.
You deserve better just like the rest of the ones I've pushed away.

I still remember the first time you brought your lips to my neck. I remember looking in the mirror the next morning for a hickey, but instead I found her name stained to my skin in purple ink. I always wondered why you  kept your eyes closed when we would pull away from a kiss; but now I think it's because it's the only way you can hold onto her memory for a little longer. She made her way into my head, under my skin and into my bed just by being the only thing on your mind. I've touched every part of your body but I cannot manage to clean away the prints of her hands. The first night I heard her name in between your breaths when you were sleeping showed that your closed eyes are the only thing keeping you with her. It's the only way you can hold her hand. You're at one end of the room and she's at the other, but there's something there that's blocking contact. Something that's keeping you from reaching out, paralyzing you not to call her name. They always ask me why I stay. Why I keep looking into your eyes when you don't look into mine unless there's a glimpse of green surfacing them. I guess it's because I keep falling asleep to my own bedtime story. The story where my body is the one you want to kiss. Where you can read my goosebumps like braille. Where you drown in the blue of my eyes. They say insanity is repeating the same thing and expecting a different result. Well baby I must be insane because I keep falling asleep to this story, but every morning I wake up alone.

I still expect your name to pop up in my open Facebook tab.
A message has been sent from so and so,
Maybe in reply to me,
Maybe with some weird picture you thought I would get a laugh out of,
Maybe just to say hello.
I know you won't.
I know it.

Even after we have not talked for some time
A part of me still expects you to be there.
A part of me hopes you still care.

Maybe you just became a habit.
Like every morning I make a coffee with breakfast and whenever I don't have that my entire day is thrown off. It has gotten to the point where I need that coffee in order to function. It may not be a good habit. I may be addicted to caffeine even. The point is that you are like my morning coffee without you I feel off.

I know that one day I won't feel that way. Like, if I did not drink coffee for long enough eventually things would be fine. Would it be the same with you? I hope so. But I don't think feelings are the same as caffeine addiction.

The eraser erased my bad habits
While the pencil drew in new ones
The glue stick glued on a whole new face
As the scissors cut away my background and past
The ball point pen then made the changes permanent
While the colored pencils shaded in my body
The calculator changed my way of thinking
As the sharpener grazed over my rough edges
Finally, the ruler
I had to measure up to your standards
Now me and you
We walk, talk and think the same
Two moving as one
I don't even know who I've become
What I was before
You've changed me more than you'll ever know

I like the thin blond hair on the back of your neck
in the light
and the way you touch your lips when you're nervous
(yes I know you don't know you do that)

these 16 years (square root of 256 with a root of 4 8x2)
spinning anxiously excitedly
baby jeep happiest thing independence is sweeeeeet

raindrops are euphoric thank you spring
please bring a storm to shake
my bones

my ****** control
growing ravenously
frick this shoot
I can control my mouth too

Old habits are hard to break,
this timeless wisdom holds true.
Unfortunately I've always had
an addictive personality, and
                                                               it's
never been more true
than now, when I'm trying
to break myself of you. And
maybe you can't decipher
my inconsistent actions, but
                                                              you
see it's hard to change my
reactions to your movements.
So when you lean in close and
turn your head towards mine,
instinct takes over, and
                                                              I
can't help but go for the kiss
I seem to constantly
                                                              crave.