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i continue to pick on the skin beside my bitten down fingernails when i have nothing to do and no cigarettes to smoke, and my eyes will zone out as i picture a series of cold, unpleasant imaginations.
some call it a bad habit
but i call it clockwork
ticking like a timebomb until the next explosion of thoughts that can almost (kill) suffocate me; it is an automatic structure of the way my body works and some may give it an alienating medical term but i'd rather just stick with "stress" to make myself feel a little bit better about myself.

there are still days when i am in need of
letting my soul fly
free - so i listen to music like Sigur Ros, A Perfect Circle and Deftones and capture lyrics like "you're into depression because it matches your eyes" and "overwhelming hostility"
so i try to steer away from the words and listen to how these bands have so much emotions they can teach me how to feel again when i crumble down from another session of "i need to run. i need to run. i need to -"

i wish i can fly

i wish i can feel the skin on my bones deteriorate with the wind as i disappear from a place at a time because i want to be somewhere else; under a rock or inside a box
or in your arms with my face buried in the curve of your neck
and tangles of your hair

and i will worry about my weight crushing your heart as i lie above your chest counting your heartbeat and i worry i will lose you
forever
then the clockwork begins a ticking and i will try to runaway so you won't face my disasters but i can never runaway from you because you keep me safe and allow me to curl inwards as you try to communicate when i just want to
fade.

i have decided to keep my hair long
but every so often
i will snip at the side of my hair that measures unproportionately short and keep it the same length as it was last week, and the week before, and the week before because it makes me feel like i am
still the same person

(as who?)

i refuse to take medication and that is why i give away my cough medicine and leave pills and tablets sealed and untouched on my table and threw away every single anti-depressants i was given because i shake my head and prefer the insomnia when they decide on a medicated slumber.

i do not want to dream in colours
if it is not my choice

this is a hollow and dark pit i return to every so often when i sit alone
and have no cigarettes to smoke and want to distract away my fingernails and i will pluck thoughts from the clockwork of my mind to release the tension

then i will look up
and think of you
and how i have the courage to laugh and dare to love because i believe you are worth the try and i get tingles under my skin when our fingers fit together; when you cover my mouth as i yawn and then kiss my back and have a secret smile on the tilt of your lips that only i can notice
and that makes me feel special.
and i want to disappear, again
but i want to disappear with you
because you remind me how to feel
like a favourite Sigur Ros song
when i begin to go numb
and sink into my bad habits once more