Habitual
scratching
through the drywall
trying to pick
through the old
led paint chips,
fractured from
the mold-melding,
face-swelling
skin-burning
heat of the room
I jab each knuckle
into the layers.
trying to dig
sharpened fingernails
like claws tearing
into a 4×4 inch
solid slab of poison
my hands are
fleshy shovels
covered in blood,
because like many
of my habits,
this is a temporary moment
comprised of
various coping mechanisms
killing me slowly,
but surely
At this point,
I probably
should’ve found
a healthier outlet.
swapping self-loathing affliction
for addictions to self-inflicting habits
~*~
J.B. Stone is an emerging poet/fiction writer from Brooklyn, now residing in Buffalo. He has poetry, prose and flash fiction featured and/or forthcoming in The Occulum, Vending Machine Press, Ghost City Review, Peach Mag, Anti-Heroin Chic, Riggwelter Press, 121Words, Mystic Blue Review, and Cadaverous Magazine. Stone also has a forthcoming self-published Short Fiction Mystery Noir entitled, Serve the Servants, (Amazon Kindle 2018). Follow his instagram @benjamin.jared or on twitter @JB_StoneTruth
Featured image by Nathan Wright
Punch Drunk Press 