Sometimes I eat my own skin.
I nibble my lip
and take just a tiny little bit.
I swish it around
with salvia and tounge
breaking it down.
I bite my nails
until they're a bit raw.
I taggle my teeth
until the bedding rips right off.
I chew on that too
and then spit it out,
to my next venture to seek out.
It's the anxiety inside,
the notion of
what happens next?
that gets my mind going.
I can't fuck up
I want to fall down into the bottomless pit,
Which at times
feels like the best choice to me.
I'd like to stretch out my arms
and fall backward
from the top of a building,
but I know if that's the choice I make
I'll never make it out,
I choose to stay grounded
where flying for humans
isn't an option.
I better keep chewing these doubts,
every piece of flesh
another step toward my next success.
You see because if I wasn't worried and flawed
and a little crazy to top it all off,
I wouldn't be driven to climb mountains everyday,
all the critics and opinions of the world
would knock me down on my face
so sometimes I eat my own skin
I'm going to win.
Created: Jun 09, 2017LynnBurton Document Media