They grow without notice
slower than a glacier
I slice my skin
and there they are
ten of them.
Uncut and undefined
til my teeth rip them apart
tearing at natural progression
with the aggression of neurosis
to chew them into a bloody pulp
knowing when I’m through
I’ll have nothing left to do
but wait for them to grow again.
But for now I peel at my soul like an orange
with jagged fingernails
tearing into the fruit of its pain.
(and you know what they say about they)
those who bite their fingernails right down to their pulpy flesh
have a higher pain threshold.
I’m here now and remind me why
I fight pain with pain?