Infections and Unhealthy Coping Mechanism

I pick.

I pick and pop and bite and squeeze.

I push the grease

from the pores on the sides of my nose

and the space between my eyebrows.

I scratch at the bumps on my legs

and pinch the ingrown hairs on my groin.

The cuticles

on my cracked and bleeding hands

turn to scabs and calluses

from my teeth’s constant attention.

My fingernails are short and uneven.

My boyfriend worries my hands will get infected.

My therapist says it’s an “unhealthy coping mechanism”.

But still…

I pick.

I scratch and pinch

until the once unnoticeable spots

become large red welts

devoid of skin

waiting to scar.

I should be getting ready.

I’m already running late.

But I’m bent over the bathroom sink

face inches from the mirror.

Check your hairline your chin the curvature of your jaw squeeze each piercing on your earlobes check your nose one more time your cheeks your chest take off your shirt to check your back sit on the vanity stretch out your shoulders to get a good angle assault all your freckles and moles just in case they’ve morphed into something juicy overnight.

You got one!

That was a good one!

But I bet you can find one more…

Just one more…

Go back to your face for just one more.

Oh you feel nauseous from the pain?

But this next one will be the BEST!

Ok no this one will be…

no this one…

this one…

STOP!

Better find a new shirt

one that hides those hideous

welts on your chest.

Now paint!

Lather your face with shellac

to cover the red.

Thick globs of primer

to fill those pores once again

so I can pick.