Something makes me pick my nails.
stray bits of cuticle dangle, enticing
just out of reach, dig in.
It happens almost of its own accord,
whether I am engaged or not--
my fingers pick, my unconscious acquiesces;
until gentle reminders snap me back.
My focus should be directed elsewhere
but still I remain somewhat mesmerized.
Blinders on, micro-managing the distraction.
Other fingers nudge mine, remonstrating me,
and I reach for them instinctually.
But I cannot let those fingers
feel used yet ineffective so often.
Caught up in a vicious cycle,
unable to make a lasting change.
Constant need to be fidgeting, somehow,
and my cuticles are always there.
I should be doing anything else,
I should be doing anything productive,
but this is all I see.
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