been picking at my lip
again. old childhood
habit–squeezing
corner of my
mouth for minutes at a time
so it forms into a blister.
digging my nail into the blister
just for the feel of it.
stare at it in the mirror.
watch it get fat
and black.
my mother called it
“pleasure pain.”
he’s saying a lot and
I just nod a lot

besides the impulse to
jump off a bridge every
day, I am not totally sure
why I am here.

“do you have any plans to hurt yourself?”
he asks.

what’s done is done.
but I don’t say anything.
just bite my lip.

“Belladonna”