Throbbing Manicure

I am bitten fingernails

down to the quick –

sharp edges of

identity,

lips, tooth against hangnail –

loose skin;

the catch of anxious breaths.

The welling

blood between padded

thumbs,

shoved into pockets,

hidden in the grasp of

restlessness.

The aching husk

of palms, claws –

nerves ill at ease.

I am the first sign

of panic.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s