things i pick apart

i tell myself it is nothing
the way my fingers search for flaws
how they wander my skin
until it blooms red under their insistence until it scars and i regret it

i tell myself everyone has a vice
bites the soft inside of their cheeks taste the metallic flavor
turn their own edges into something they can manage

or when a plan shifts
even a little
my thoughts scatter rushing to rebuild the moment before it slips too far from what i counted on

and at night
when the world goes quiet
my mind refuses to
it sits me down
lays out my whole life
tells me to sort it out fix it
map every hour of tomorrow and the next
as if sleep is something i must earn
by thinking of everything all at once

i know control is a fragile god
but one that i keep praying to
fingers trembling
mouth sore
mind racing ahead of me and maybe one day
i will learn to let go
to unclench my jaw
to let my skin rest
to let sleep find me
without demanding my whole future first