Work Text:
Picking
I am not touching my scalp
but
with a need to be scratched,
the scab pulses.
Throughout the day and night
it calls me.
Rip your skin,
it says,
Tear it all until there's nothing left
I clasp my hands in my lap to stop
but
my hands crawl through my scalp and twists through my hair
searching for more.
The bumps,
the scabs,
All of it is picked, ripped, dug until it draws blood.
The relief washes over me, satisfied until my hands move.
Again.
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Healing
Again,
the relief washes over me, satisfied until my hands move.
All of it is picked, ripped, dug until it draws blood,
the scabs,
the bumps.
Searching for more,
my hands crawl through my scalp,
but
I clasp my hands in my lap to stop.
Tear it all until there's nothing left,
it says,
rip your skin.
It calls me
throughout day and night.
The scab pulses,
with a need to be scratched,
but
I am not touching my scalp.