The habitual chewing of fingernails
came naturally to me
when I was nervous.
I cut that out. I stopped that,
but here it is again.
Bad habits - bloody nails,
itchy skin and restless legs:
the subconscious kicking
of a buried self
clawing at layers of gravedirt and irony
and detachment.
He’s down there (somewhere),
but how different he must look now
from this; from me.
I can’t feel him anymore,
because the only thing I can feel
is self-conscious
James McCoull is a Master’s student studying English Literature and Culture editor for this very paper. In his spare time he gets sad and writes poetry until he feels like a human
being again. Sometimes it doesn’t work.
More of his work can be found at the
following address:
http://wired-messiah.tumblr.com/tagged/poetry/
