biting my lip
the same spot
in the evening
in the nighttime
while i’m sleeping
during morning walks
all because i have
the anxiety that hits me
in my bones
in my core
in my head
in my heart
in my brain chemistry
in my fidgets
in my panics
in my subconscious
in my conscious state
in everything
even when i’m relatively
not worried
i’m still
so
worried
anxiety picking
January 3, 2023
pick at the nail polish
pick at the skin beside
pick at your lips and the inside of your cheek
with your teeth
as they glide over and over and over
searching for purchase
searching for purpose
searching for something to quiet the mind
and never admit to having anxiety
ever
ever
ever in your life
[a poem for someone
maybe someone
other than me]
February 20, 2023
i’m pretty great
at
poetry of the mundane
(if i can give myself that credit)
but i’ve been edging towards
a more gruesome poetry
as of late
poetry of the gross daily tasks
the icky parts of being human
the scattered co-morbids of mental illness
the ones with strange satisfactions
and i don’t want to subject readers to such poems
as odes to pimple popping
and detailed descriptions of how my anxiety makes me
pick my skin to bleeding
but
they are part of my human experience
so maybe
they are also a part
of yours
?
kipventures 